The Stolen Hallow
by RedhairBrowneyes
Summary: Post DH. Harry must return to Hogwarts for his 7th year after Voldemort's defeat. The elder wand is stolen and Harry becomes a target. First fanfic, review, be brutal. HPxGW RWxHG NLxLL
1. Prologue

The Stolen Hallow

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything. All copyright and so forth to J.K. Rowling.

**Prologue**

A warm wind swept through the graveyard of Godric's Hollow, stirring the green trees of summer. The grave of Ignotus Perevall lay crumbling, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows hewn into the stone at the top, barely visible in the twilight.

A man in a long, black cloak made his way between the graves, moving purposefully toward the Peverel's tomb. He stopped and looked around. Curtains were being pulled shut and lights were being turned off as night descended on the onetime home of Godric Gryffindor.

With one further glance around to make sure none were watching, the man in the black robe withdrew his wand from his cloak pocket and aimed it at the grave stone. A red flash lit up the man's twisted face for a moment. With a groan, a crack appeared down the centre and the tomb split in two.

The man's red eyes peered disdainfully into the depths and after a moment the dirt cleared.

"_Lumos_," the man muttered.

The grave looked as if it had been recently disturbed, because the dust was lighter in some places than others, as if the wind had swept in and lifted it. There was a body wrapped in a cloth of majestic blue.

The dark man pointed his wand at the body and rolled it over, searching. After a moment he saw it; a red silk bundle lay in the corner.

"_Accio_ bundle," the man rasped. He unwrapped it almost lovingly. A wand fell onto the leaf strewn ground. He hastened to pick it up, and smiled as it lay in his hands. He felt like laughing, it was almost too easy.

The Elder Wand was his.

**Please review. Chapters get much longer.**


	2. So Much For Peace

**Ender; thanks for the advice, that's one of my worse habits. i'll definately double-check next time.**

**Chapter 1 **

**So Much For Peace**

A shiver of unease ran down Harry Potter's back, but he shook it off. Voldemort was dead and the Elder Wand was safely hidden, so there couldn't be anything wrong in the world again so soon. He pointed his wand at a shattered statue.

"Reparo," he murmured. The pieces of stone molded back together. Further down the hall Neville and Ron were carefully piecing a large tapestry back together, both muttering constantly. Similar scenes were to be found all over the castle. Harry shook his head again and fixed another statue with a flick of his wand. The repair of Hogwarts was going to take a while.

Occasionally a person would run up to him. They would stutter thanks and congratulations, perhaps shaking his hand before running back to their duties. Harry had thought his fame couldn't have grown with the fall of Voldemort, but it looked as if it had multiplied in the scores.

"Harry, could you give me a hand rather than just standing around," Hermione called. Harry turned and saw her standing next to a sizeable hole in the wall. The floor surrounding her was covered in large chunks of stone. The giants had done some serious damage.

He glanced out and whistled. There was a twenty foot drop to the ground, "If you jump I'll give you three galleons."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Really Harry, this is hardly the time to be joking around. Hogwarts is re-opening in less than two months. This castle needs to be spotless by the time those students start arriving."

Harry chuckled, "As long as it's not us Hermione, who really cares?"

Hermione didn't reply, but gave him a scathing glare before aiming her wand at the shards of stone on the ground, "Wingardium Leviosa." Harry smiled and finished it off with another "Reparo" before following her out of the corridor. They reached the Entrance Hall before she whirled around.

"Have you spoken to Ginny yet?" she asked. Harry stiffened at once and tried hard not to glare at her. Ginny had been pointedly ignoring him since Voldemort fell a week ago. Whenever he approached her she would suddenly find someone else to talk to, or remember something she had forgotten to do.

"She clearly doesn't want to talk to me," he said through clenched teeth, "If that's the way she wants to treat me, then fine. I'm not going to beg for her to take me back if she doesn't want to."

Hermione looked thoughtful, "You hurt her, Harry. You shouldn't have broken up with her in the first place. She didn't want protecting, she wanted to be with you, and you turned your back on her."

But he wasn't listening. He turned on his heel and marched into the Great Hall. The dead and wounded had been moved to St Mungo's long before, replaced again by the four house tables. He sat down at Gryffindor table and started wolfing down some cereal. Hermione joined him after a moment, a look of disapproval on her face. But she didn't say anything.

After a few minutes of awkward silence Harry muttered, "Sorry 'Mione."

She nodded in thanks, and they began talking of the repairs. Hermione didn't mention Ginny again. Just as Harry was pushing his cereal bowl away contentedly, the doors to the Hall slammed open and Ron walked in, a disgruntled look on his face. He slammed himself into the seat opposite Harry and attacked a piece of bacon. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other warily.

"Peeves!" Ron growled, "Bloody poltergeist, tearing things you just fix to pieces."

Harry tried very hard not to give a sarcastic reply. Peeves always tore things to pieces, it was in his nature.

A flash of fiery red hair appeared in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see a cloak whip out of sight through the doors. This did nothing to improve his mood. He scowled at Hermione who was giving him a pointed look. She hurriedly turned away.

"Potter! Granger! Weasley!" They turned to see Professor McGonagall striding toward them, "I need your help with something." Beckoning for them to follow, she led them up several staircases and along three corridors up to a familiar stretch of blank wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

"Now, am I to understand that fiendfyre was used in this Room?" she inquired, and continued when Hermione nodded, "I'm not sure how destructive the use of Dark magic that strong in the Room of Requirement will be, so it could be quite some time before the chamber is usable again."

They walked back and forth three times, and a door began to appear. The door had ornate carvings on it, but there were black scorch marks around the edges. McGonagall pushed the door open tentatively, raising her wand as she went. As soon as it opened, it belched forth black smoke. McGonagall waved her wand and the smoke was dispelled.

"This could take quite some time indeed," she murmured, peering in. Looking past her, Harry heard Ron and Hermione gasp. The walls were covered in ash and dust. There was hundreds of twisted, blackened objects lying all over the ground.

"It's as I thought," McGonagall remarked. The others turned to her, "The room's shapeshifting ability was damaged by the amount of Dark magic used here. I tried to change its form with my mind, but as you can see there is no visible change. You three are to assist in the restoring of this room. Oh and once you're done in here, if you could join me in my office for a moment, the password is 'Godric's Sword'."

As McGonagall departed, the trio glanced at each other, before pulling out their wands. For the next hour, shouts of "Scourgify!" could be heard echoing around the halls.

"But really," Ron said as he cleaned a large section of wall with a flick of his wrist, "You wonder how Crabbe of all people could do some serious magic like this."

Harry shrugged, shaking off the question, "Probably didn't need much brains, you know. Just needed the spell and the foul intent."

Hermione shook her head, "It hardly matters. Even he didn't deserve what he got."

"Oh yeah, why we should have just let him kill us," Ron said sarcastically. Hermione ignored him. By the time they had left the Room of Requirement, almost half the hall had been cleared of ash and other debris.

An ugly gargoyle guarded the entrance to the Headmistress' office. Harry said "Godric's Sword" and the gargoyle leapt to the side. They stepped onto the rotating stone staircase and were carried to the landing in front of what was formerly Dumbledore's room. With a shrug, Harry turned the doorknob and stepped through. Professor McGonagall was not in sight so the three of them took a seat in front of the desk to wait.

The grate that would normally hold a blazing fire sat cold and empty in the corner. The portraits of Hogwarts' former Headmasters and Mistresses, hanging in various places around the room, appeared to be snoozing, but Harry was sure he caught them peeping at him from time to time. He chuckled to himself, but looked around apprehensively when he realised that he had no idea why he was here.

Standing, he made his way around the Headmistress' desk to a large portrait on the wall behind. Dumbledore beamed at him, "So wonderful to see you again Harry, I trust you are well?"

Harry grinned back, "Never better."

"I must say you are coping quite better than I had hoped," Dumbledore continued, but was cut off by a snide voice, "I really think the boy's head is bloated enough without heaping your praise on him, Dumbledore."

Harry turned to the portrait of Snape, not feeling the slightest bit of dislike for the man he had once hated, "I think I owe you something of an apology."

Snape sneered, but Harry continued, "I'm sorry that you died without the world knowing your story. I never knew you loved my mother."

"Save it, Potter," Snape spat, "I neither need, nor want your petty apologies."

"Severus!" Dumbledore said warningly, "Harry has been through quite enough without your constant berating."

Harry couldn't help but feel a spike of irritation. Here he was, apologizing to Snape for everything he had done wrong, and the man was treating him with the same unfairness as always. He thought by now he would have earned at least a little of the respect of his former enemy.

"Ah, you're here," Harry turned to see McGonagall closing the door behind her, "There are a few matters of importance I wish to discuss with you three."

Harry gave the two portraits one more glance before moving back to his seat and sitting down. McGonagall sat down behind the desk and lifted a sheaf of papers.

"Firstly, Miss Granger," she said turning to Hermione, "A team of Obliviators has been sent to Australia to retrieve your parents. Let me assure you that these are professionals. They will be able to safely remove your parents back home and will take the utmost care to restore their memories."

Hermione nodded, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. Ron lent across and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Mr. Weasley, although it is usually considered against the law to deceive Ministry officials, they are willing to let the ghoul incident drop due to your recent services to the wizarding world in relation to Voldemort and the Horcruxes."

Ron nodded mutely with flushed cheeks, obviously trying hard to ignore the fact that he had narrowly escaped a term in Azkaban.

She turned to Harry, "And lastly, Mr. Potter. Now that you are of age, you have all rights to the Potter and Black estates. This includes your own family vault, and now the vault belonging to Sirius Black. You also keep Grimmauld Place, and if you so wish it, the house in Godric's Hollow."

Harry nodded, feeling strangely empty. He didn't like thinking about his inheritance, it often led to thoughts about the loved ones he had lost, and that was one thing he hated to think about.

"I also feel it is my duties to inform you that upon marriage, half of your entire estate will belong to the partner you choose." Harry nodded in acceptance.

"Now," McGonagall leant forward, "About your futures…"

Harry sensed Ron and Hermione tense up beside him. What could have possibly gone wrong now?

"There was a large number of people in the Ministry who seemed to be in favor of allowing you to have careers without having to do your seventh year of education," she grimaced, "However, a small group seemed to believe that if one witch or wizard has to have a certain amount of N.E.W.Ts, than there was no reason they should give preferential treatment to you just because you've had more experience."

Harry was furious, "This is beyond unfair. The three of us have done more than any ten Ministry workers."

"You don't need to tell me, Potter," McGonagall said wearily, "I am on your side. Unfortunately, some high ranking officials managed to sway the others."

Harry snarled. Ron and Hermione made similar noises of outrage. A woman resembling a large toad flashed to the front of Harry's mind. He looked down to see that his fist was clenched tightly on the edge of the seat. A scar was visible on his fist. _I must not tell lies._

"As it is, you will not be able to become anything without achieving your N.E.W.Ts this year," she continued, "But to make up for this inconvenience, the staff here at Hogwarts are willing to give you a free reign of sorts. You will be able to enter and leave the castle grounds whenever you wish, on your own time of course. It is essential that you complete your N.E.W.Ts."

Harry grunted. McGonagall put away her papers, "I will expect to see you at the opening feast. That will be all."

Harry heard the dismissal in her tone. He stood slowly and looked over at his friends. Ron's face was set in a livid mask, and Hermione had a look of shock plastered over her features. They filed slowly out of the office in silence, but when they were well out of hearing distance from the Headmistress' office, Ron exploded.

"They can't do this to us!" he roared, "We've done a hundred times more than anyone else and how do we get rewarded? We get another bloody year at school."

"I don't know how that Umbridge woman still has any power in the Ministry," Harry said angrily, "You'd think she would have been kicked out by now."

"Well to be honest," Hermione said, surprising Ron and Harry with her timid tone, "I think I'm kind of glad to be coming back for another year."

Harry and Ron stared at her, open mouthed.

"Well!" she said defensively at their incredulity, "You need that sort of experience to become an Obliviator, and I think it's a very worthwhile job."

Ron looked thoughtful, "Somehow, I never saw us as anything but Aurors. But now that you mention it, a job like an Obliviator wouldn't be so bad."

Harry rolled his eyes, "It's not so much the fact that we'll be here for the next year that worries me. It's more the principle that they're making us do it."

Hermione nodded, "They really shouldn't be able to stop us, but I personally don't mind spending another year here."

"Don't forget to smile when you walk in so the toad thinks we're happy with her decision," Harry said, smirking.

They burst back into the Great Hall, the biggest smiles etched into their faces. A glance at the Slytherin table saw them all looking at the trio expectantly, as if waiting for signs of discontent. Harry, beaming for all to see, was burning with rage on the inside, but sat down calmly at the Gryffindor table and tucked into some supper.

"I think I might go for a bit of a fly, you know, just to clear my head," he whispered to the others as he pushed away his plate. Ron nodded glumly, stabbing a potato with his fork. Hermione made no sign that she had heard him at all.

The sky was dark by the time he reached the Quidditch pitch. He mounted his Firebolt and flew into the air. He calmed down immediately. Here he was free.

After a couple of laps of the pitch, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the snitch that Dumbledore had left him in his will. With a mighty heave, he threw it as far as he could. When it began to fall, the golden ball's wings fluttered madly and it flew off, disappearing into the night. Harry flew around the pitch several times searching for the snitch. He thought he saw something for a moment, but it was just one of the windows of Hogwarts, glowing in the twilight.

There was a sudden whirring noise near his ear as if something big and heavy was flying past. He spun in the air, squinting into the darkness. After a moment's hesitation, he dismissed it and continued his search for the snitch. Only seconds later, a patch darker than the night rocketed past his elbow. He pulled out his wand.

"Lumos Maxima," he shouted. An explosion of light erupted from his wand, illuminating the air around him for a hundred feet. That was when he saw them. Pelting towards him from different directions, were five overlarge bludgers. Remembering to dodge just in time, he hared off down the pitch, the bludgers in close pursuit.

"Reducto!" he roared, pointing his wand over his shoulder. In a flash of blue light, one of the bludgers was reduced to dust. Reaching the hoops, Harry shot around them and spun back toward the other end. The bludgers turned slowly, before shooting after him. Realizing there was not going to be a further chance to play, Harry summoned the snitch to his free hand with a quick "Accio". It came rushing out of the night into his open palm. He stuffed it unceremoniously into his cloak pocket before turning back to his immediate problem.

The remaining four bludgers were zooming toward him down the pitch, and it did not take a genius to realise that they had been tampered with. He pulled hard on the handle of his broomstick, so that it was facing straight up. The clouds became nearer, but the whirring of the bludgers did not get any fainter. Suddenly, he was in the clouds and soaking wet. He pushed onwards, feeling the pressure in his ears building and the water turning to ice.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he burst from the clouds, gazing in wonder at the size of the full moon. But he didn't have long to admire the view. The bludgers burst out of the clouds twenty feet away and made a beeline straight for him. There was nothing for it. He turned his broom and charged straight at them. With a very gentle nudge, he managed to spin just enough to squeeze between the offensive balls and pelt back toward the ground. It was a very quick descent, the cold hurting his face and fogging his glasses.

The pitch reappeared beneath him and he abruptly realised there were cloaked people standing staring up at him. He waved frantically, trying to get their attention. One seemed to point at him. He chanced a look over his shoulder and saw the bludgers closing in. Turning back to the ground he almost froze in shock. A jet of green light was shooting straight toward him. Swerving, he heard the Avada Kadavra spell connect with the bludgers and blow them to pieces.

"STUPEFY!" he shouted, aiming at the cloaked figures below. A blast of red light shot out of the end of his wand and struck one of the three cloaked figures. In the distance, he could see the front doors of the castle opening up.

Suddenly, his Firebolt started to fall like a stone. He looked over his shoulder and his heart almost stopped. Where the tail of his broom had been, there was just a few smoking twigs. He tried to pull up, but it was too late. With a sickening _thud_ Harry hit the ground, and a darkness blacker than night consumed him.

**had that one ready. school assignments, so maybe no update until weekend**


	3. Hospital Daze

**Chapter 2**

**Hospital Daze**

There was a dull thumping like a mat being beaten echoing in his ears. With a start Harry realised it was his heartbeat. It sounded like a large drum was being struck repeatedly within the confines of his chest. With a supreme effort of will, he managed to force his eyelids open.

The world was a large blur. Everything was in shades of white and grey. Well, almost everything. Nearby were several patches of blazing red; he smiled when he saw them. He reached out to his right, blindly groping for his glasses on the bedside table before shoving them onto his nose. The world came back into focus.

Sunlight was streaming into the hospital wing through a partially open window above Harry's head. Across the ward, there were two other occupied beds. One had the curtains pulled tight around it while the other was taken by a young witch with her right arm in a sling. By the moaning coming from her, Harry guessed she was experiencing the painful effects of Skele-Gro as it regenerated the bones in her arm.

Hermione was curled in a chair by his bed, a blanket draped over her sleeping form. Ron and Bill were standing at the end of his bed, conversing in whispers, every now and then glancing worriedly towards Madam Pomfrey's office. Harry noted with a pang of anger that Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

"Well good morning," he said. Bill and Ron cut off their conversation and Hermione's eyes flew open. After a moment of stunned silence, in which Harry became decidedly uncomfortable under their shocked gaze, they all began talking at once.

"Harry, we were really worried-"

"What were you thinking flying alone so soon after-"

"You took one hell of a fall there, mate-"

Harry waited for them to stop. The dull pounding in the back of his head was giving him a headache enough without the three of them bombarding him as soon as he woke up.

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly. The three of them glanced at each other before Bill spoke.

"We're not certain," he said gravely, "It would take some powerful Dark magic to do so much damage to a Firebolt. Not to mention sustain an enchantment over four bludgers at once."

"There were five," Harry corrected.

Ron looked horrified, "Five?"

"Yeah," Harry shrugged, "I was out looking for my snitch when the five of them started chasing me. I have no idea where they came from."

"I think it would be safe to say that it was probably a rogue Death Eater," Bill said slowly, "You would have undoubtedly made some new enemies when you beat You-Kno … oh, very well; Voldemort. I might need to talk to you about what you saw, Harry."

"What he saw?!" Hermione shrieked, shocking the others, "I think he should probably focus more on getting better at the moment."

Ron and Bill looked at each other sheepishly. Hermione glared at them for a second before turning back to Harry, "You are not to leave this Hospital wing until you are better, Harry. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded timidly, trying very hard to ignore the fact he had just been talked down by one of his best friends. Bill looked thoughtful, "Harry, could I see your wand for a moment?"

Surprised by the request, Harry reached over and grabbed into the pocket of his cloak which was hanging from a stand next to his bed. He felt his stomach plummet when he realised it wasn't there.

"My wand," he said hoarsely, "My wand's gone!"

Stunning everyone, Ron laughed, "Blimey, mate. It completely slipped my mind in all the excitement. I found it near where you crashed when they were carrying you up here."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and took his newly restored wand of phoenix feather and holly from Ron's outstretched hand. He handed it on to Bill, giving a nod of thanks to his best friend. Ron just shrugged as if to say, 'It's nothing'.

Bill examined the wand for a moment, then pulled out his own wand and put the tip of his against the tip of Harry's. "Prior Incantato," he incanted. He raised Harry's wand and pointed it across the room. At first nothing happened. Then, a red light erupted out of Harry's wand and a figure in black appeared on the opposite side of the ward. The red light struck the cloaked figure who was thrown off his feet. As suddenly as they had appeared, the apparition of both man and spell faded.

"It seems," Bill said slowly, handing Harry back his wand, "that we won't be able to identify this fellow until he decides to show himself again; his cowl was pulled so low, it was a wonder he could see what he was doing."

The four of them sat in silence for a while, before Harry thought to ask, "Ah, exactly how much damage did I take last night?"

Ron grinned, "Last night? You've been here for three days, mate. We're going to have to reserve a bed for you in here next term. You've visited this place so many times, they'll probably get you to engrave your name in the wall or something."

Hermione glared at him, "It's not funny, Ron. Harry, you didn't exactly trip down the steps. You somehow managed to dislocate your left arm from the elbow downwards, shattered your right foot and kneecap and broke several of your ribs."

"Is that all?" Harry said, chuckling, but quieted instantly at the murderous look on Hermione's face, "How's the cleaning going?"

"The Gryffindor and Astronomy Towers have been completely rebuilt," Ron said, "The kitchens and Hufflepuff common room are almost done, and we've begun the reconstruction of the Entrance Hall. Oh, we managed to finish cleaning the Room of Requirement."

Harry nodded, "I suppose you weren't able to fix the room's shapeshifting abilities yet?"

"It will take some strong magic to restore it," Hermione murmured, "McGonagall says-"

"Bah, McGonagall doesn't know much more than the rest of us," Ron interrupted, "Back to important business." Hermione looked affronted.

"Mum says you can come over to the Burrow this summer," Ron continued, a hopeful gleam in his eye, "She says she doesn't want you alone for the holidays. I mean, I know you might want to stay in Grimmauld Place for the first time, but mum's cooking a massive end of war feast. She's going to have a bit of trouble with the preparations; I swear she's invited half the wizarding world."

Harry imagined the hollow emptiness of number twelve Grimmauld Place and the painful memories he would have to endure alone, and then the cheerful atmosphere and recollections of the Burrow. It didn't take him long to decide, "I'll be there, Ron." He was struck by sudden inspiration, "Ron, would your mum like some help with the workload?"

"Sure, I guess," said Ron, confused, "But I don't really want to-"

"Not us, you nitwit," he said laughing. He turned and called over the side of his bed, "Kreacher!"

With a loud _crack_, the house-elf appeared right beside Harry's bedside table. The filthy rag he used to wear was gone, replaced by a clean white towel that was wrapped around his waist, with the golden locket of Regulus Black hanging around his neck. He bowed low, his large nose and ears brushing the tiled floor. He was a much different Kreacher to the one Harry had met three years ago, "How may Kreacher serve you, master Harry?"

Harry smiled at the elf, "Kreacher, I've been invited to the Burrow for the summer and I'm not planning on returning to Grimmauld Place much during that time."

Kreacher's long face became downcast. Harry hurried on, "I was wondering if you might like to join us and well, you know, help around at the Burrow for a couple of weeks."

Kreacher smiled. It wasn't a particularly charming smile, but it was far better than the way he would grimace and mutter about Mudbloods and blood traitors behind their backs, "Kreacher would be happy to join master at the dwelling of the noble Weasley house."

Harry sighed in relief, adjusting his glasses where they had been slipping down his nose, "If you could go ahead and take some clothes over for me and prepare my bed for me, I'd be very much obliged."

"And maybe you could make another one of those steak and kidney pies," Ron put in hopefully. "Please," he added hastily, seeing the black look Hermione was giving him. Harry smiled and Bill laughed.

With one more wrinkly smile and another sweeping bow for Harry, Kreacher vanished with a loud _crack_.

Ron grinned at Harry, but was bustled out of the way by the matron Madam Pomfrey, "Don't think you're getting out of here anytime soon, Potter. You'll be lucky to be out of this bed by next term if I have anything to say about it."

Harry grimaced as she approached with a goblet full of smoking liquid. He had been here too many times to think that whatever the plump woman gave him would taste any good. His guess was right on mark. He almost choked as the thick medicine was forced down his throat.

Bill chuckled as the woman moved back toward her office, "It might take some time to prove to Poppy you're alright. You should have heard her when you were brought in."

"She went off her tree when she saw you," Ron said quietly, eyeing Madam Pomfrey cautiously, "Went on for hours about young people always going off on adventures without a second thought for their own health."

"And well she would!" Hermione said, firing up again, "Any doctor would if they saw the state you were in."

"Just give me my Firebolt and I'll fly straight out of here," Harry said grinning. The others glanced at each other again, the difference being they looked hopeless. He felt his stomach do a back flip, "Where exactly is my broomstick?"

Bill and Hermione turned to Ron, who coughed nervously, "You connected with the ground pretty hard. But, I mean, the curse did more damage to it anyway. It was probably done for before you crashed … but anyways …"

Harry watched as Ron pulled a black and twisted piece of wood from behind his back. With a downcast face, Harry took it off him. The entire tail end of the broom had been blasted off. The word _Firebolt_ was just visible on the ash covered handle. This had been the first gift Sirius gave him. Now almost nothing remained that had been given him by any of his guardians. He felt his eyes watering but forced back the tears.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione said anxiously.

He hid his face from them for a second before turning back, anger in his emerald green eyes and his voice as cold as ice, "And we're sure we don't know who did this?"

"We don't know, and you don't have to know either," Bill said firmly, "There's no need for you to worry about them. You need to concentrate on your recovery. No doubt you're going to need your strength next year."

Harry nodded glumly. He placed the ruined Firebolt down by the side of his bed and lay back on his stack of pillows. He suddenly noticed a large pile of sweet boxes lying on the floor beside his bed.

"How long did you say I've been in here?" he asked faintly.

Hermione sniffed, "Those are from your well wishers. They seem to think you were mortally wounded from the fall and deemed it necessary to give you tribute to pull you through the hard times."

Harry's face cleared and he smiled, "I can't eat all of it myself. Who wants to give me a hand?"

Bill said he'd better go and tell the others Harry was awake. Harry and Ron attacked the pile of sweets, eating ferociously under the disapproving gaze of Hermione. Several times Harry gagged when he got a particularly disgusting flavor of Bertie Bott's Beans, the worst of which was troll bogies. He and Ron opened several cases of Chocolate Frogs, trading cards like they had on their first day on the Hogwarts Express. But the biggest surprise came when Harry caught Ron staring in shock at a card in his hand. Harry snatched it off him and felt his own jaw drop.

_Harry Potter. The 'Boy Who Lived'. Only known wizard to have survived the Avada Kedavra or Killing Curse. Defeated the Dark Wizard Voldemort and currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

The picture of him was seated in a large armchair and waved madly at the real Harry lying in hospital.

"You're finally on the cards, Harry," Ron said, his voice torn between excitement and jealousy. Harry glanced at him, but Ron was already looking through the pile of sweets again, studiously ignoring the card in Harry's hand. Harry didn't bring it up again.

It was almost noon when someone else arrived. Mrs Weasley, Bill and Charlie hurried through the door, followed a little way behind by a quiet Ginny. Mrs Weasley started sobbing as soon as she saw Harry and grabbed him in a bearhug, "Harry … we were so worried … thought you'd been killed … terrible for someone to come after you again so soon after beating You-Know-Who …"

"I'm alright Mrs Weasley," Harry said awkwardly, "Believe me when I say I've had a lot worse than this. Five bludgers and a single wizard have got nothing on Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

"Nonetheless," she said, her eyes still wet, "I'll be making your favourite treacle tart for when you come over."

She ran around Harry's bed, fluffing up his pillow and straightening his sheets. She told him several times that if there was anything he needed, all he had to do was ask. Ron, Bill and Charlie were smirking at him from behind her.

"I'm alright, Mrs Weasley, really," he assured her.

She looked unconvinced but finally stepped back. Charlie grinned at Harry. Shaking the Weasley's hand, Harry noticed there were a few more blisters and sores on Charlie's palm, "What have you been doing lately Charlie? Your hand feels like you stuffed it down the throat of a dragon."

Charlie grimaced, "Very close to it. We've been rounding up the few that the Death Eaters let loose. We lost one of our own to a Hebridean Black that was three miles from London. It took three squads of Obliviators to wipe the memories of all the Muggles that saw us."

"I'm sorry," Harry said automatically.

Charlie waved the apology away, "Harry, don't apologise for things that are most certainly not your fault."

"Er … Harry …"

Harry tried very hard not to glare as he turned his head to look at Ginny. She was standing by the entrance to the ward and had an unreadable expression on her face.

"Come on, Ron," Hermione said hurriedly, "Let's go and get something to eat, I'm starving."

"I feel like I just ate three meals," he complained, pretending not to notice the murderous stare on her face as she dragged him away.

Mrs Weasley saw the significant look Hermione directed first at Ginny and then at Harry. The mother of seven smiled, "Bill and Charlie, could I speak to you two outside for a moment?"

The two eldest Weasleys smirked at Harry again as they were pushed forcefully out of the ward by Mrs Weasley. Harry gave them a piercing glare that would have been able to break rocks. The door slammed behind them with an echoing _thud_. Across the ward, the young witch gave another pitiful groan.

"Harry?" Ginny said again, questioning. He stared into her deep brown eyes, his face scrunching up into a scowl, remembering the way she had been treating him for the last couple of weeks.

"What is it that you want, Ginny?" he said coldly. At the ice in his voice, Ginny's brown eyes narrowed dangerously. Harry glared straight back at her, ignoring the warning bells going off in the back of his head. He felt as if he could have cut the tension in the air with a sharp knife.

"Don't take that tone with me," she snapped, "I may not exactly have been supportive of your decision to hunt Voldemort, but I was never against you."

"So why have you been avoiding me for the last few days," he shouted, "I finally beat the man who has been hunting me since I was one year old. I now have all the time in the world to spend with you and instead you decide to shun me."

"You know perfectly well why I'm angry with you," Ginny said fiercely, "You had no right to sacrifice yourself for the wizarding world. You could have at least told me before you did it, rather than try to be noble."

"I did what was right!" Harry roared, "It's what anyone would have done if they had been in my position."

"Right by whom?" she yelled, "Harry, you have to take control of your own life rather than do what others expect of you!"

"Then," he said icily, "I'll take your advice right now. As I obviously have no _control_ over this conversation, I want you to leave at once. Nothing is more important to me than doing what is right, do you hear me. Nothing!"

Ginny's self-control broke. Her eyes began to well with tears and she ran to the door. Halfway out, she turned and spoke, her voice quivering with emotion, "If doing what is right means more to you than I do, I do not regret saying farewell … goodbye Mr. Potter."

With a swish of her cloak she was gone, leaving Harry feeling strangely empty. He sat in silence for hours, not talking to the others when they returned. He didn't sleep until well past midnight and his dreams were plagued with images of a red-haired girl sitting alone in the dark, crying.

**Finally!!!! Done at last, very tedious stuff. I hate these emotional things, I'm no good at them. Stay with me, more action on the way. Promise next one'll be more interesting. Just couldn't have harry go from being attacked and getting smashed, to being healed and better the next morning. Anyways, probably get next chapter up by the end of the weekend. **

**Ps. Could someone please explain what a beta is?**

**Pps. REVIEW.**


	4. Burrow In For Summer

**Chapter 3**

**Burrow In For Summer**

Harry woke early the next morning with an unfamiliar hollowness in the pit of his stomach. He felt empty after his argument with Ginny and was glad that he didn't have to talk to any of the others yet. He needed to clear his head, but this time, he would be more careful.

The sun had not yet risen. He put on his glasses and glanced over at the couch that had been brought in the previous night. Ron was slouched in it with a blanket wrapped around him. As Harry watched him he snored softly, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like 'Hermione'.

He peered out from between the curtains that surrounded his bed, making sure that he could hear the relaxed breathing that signified sleep coming from the other bed with closed curtains. The door to Madam Pomfrey's was closed and locked; Harry was sure that she too was sleeping.

With one last quick glance at Ron, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He placed his right foot on the floor first, followed more slowly and gingerly by his recently injured left. A small twinge of pain ran up his heel when it first touched the cold tiles, but quickly faded to a dull ache. Reaching under his bed, he found his rucksack and pulled out some more suitable clothes than the hospital attire he was currently wearing. He grabbed a pair of socks and pulled them onto his feet, followed closely by his shoes. He left the laces undone to reduce the pressure on his throbbing left foot. Without a second thought he grabbed his wand and shoved it into his pocket, before reaching into his rucksack again.

The Invisibility Cloak was as light as a feather in Harry's hands. He marvelled at it for a moment; in his hands, he held one of the three legendary Deathly Hallows. A shiver ran down his spine when he thought of the other Hallows. The Elder Wand was hidden and the Resurrection Stone was lost, he told himself firmly.

Once he was fully dressed and made sure his wand was securely in place, he slipped the cloak of Ignotus Peverel around him. His body disappeared with a quiet swishing noise as the effects of his ancestor's cloak took hold. He took one more look around, pulled his hood up and hurried toward the doors, a slight limp in his step.

The halls had an emptiness in the pre-morning hours. The not yet risen sun was sending its first rays over the distant mountains, washing the castle in an eerie blue light. Through the windows Harry could see the black trees of the Forbidden Forest swaying in the wind. Once or twice he imagined he saw the dark shape of a Thestral rising up above the trees before diving back into the cover of the forest.

With a sudden _whoosh_, Peeves flew straight through the classroom wall to Harry's right, cackling madly. He stopped abruptly within feet of where Harry was standing, invisible. Harry paused, knowing full well that the poltergeist senses could see right through the cloak's illusion.

"Peevesy knows you're there even if he can't see you," he said, cackling again, "Wee kiddies shouldn't be around alone so soon after the big bang."

Harry sighed, whispering, "It's me, Peeves."

The poltergeist's eyes widened in recognition at Harry's voice, "Ah, old Potty. Peevesy was wondering when we'd meet again." Something seemed to click in Peeves' eyes, "Ah, what is Potty doing out of the hospital so early? Peevesy thinks nobody knows."

"Don't try, Peeves," Harry warned, his voice dangerously quiet, "You know better than to rat on me." He laid an invisible hand on the handle of his wand.

Peeves cackled again, "Headmistress wouldn't be happy with Potty if she found out he was alone in the corridors, with only old Peevesy for company." He opened his mouth, probably to call Filch.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Harry muttered, whipping out his wand, "Langlock!" As in Harry's sixth year, Peeves' tongue suddenly became stuck to the roof of his mouth. Peeves gave Harry a sullen glare and zoomed off down the hall, mumbling what Harry guessed would be very obscene words if he could speak properly.

The Entrance Hall was slightly tidier than when he had last been through it three days ago. The four house hourglasses had been completely restored. The rubies, sapphires, emeralds and gold stones were shining immaculately within their glass casing, already prepared for the next year. The statues had been repaired and once more stood guard over the entry to the castle.

Harry eased the door open a few inches, when something caught his eye that made him do a double-take. The large silver lock had had its centre burned out. What was even more disturbing was that it appeared to have been melted from the inside. Pulling his cloak more tightly around him, Harry vowed to tell McGonagall about it as soon as he returned to the castle.

The grounds were devoid of life, only Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest showing signs of any inhabitants. Harry veered toward the lake as he approached the Quidditch pitch; he wasn't quite ready to see the pitch again so soon.

There was a large tree near the rocky shore and Harry sat down beneath it, slowly pulling off the hood of his cloak. It was in this very place that Harry had seen his father and his friends torment a much younger Severus Snape. A spike of pain ran through him at the thought of James, Sirius and Remus and he hurriedly pushed them out of his mind. For a while he just sat, watching calmly as the morning passed him by.

The light grew steadily and he idly realised he would have to get back to the castle soon or else they would know he was gone. But as he stood up, he heard a whimpering noise echoing up from the shore below. It sounded like a person in pain. Hastily pulling his cloak back up around his face, he drew his wand and crept slowly toward the lake's edge.

There were several large rocky ledges that led down to the water. Harry slid slowly down the steep shore, winding his way in between the rocky crags. The pitiful noises got ever closer and Harry became more apprehensive, raising his wand. Finally, he landed softly behind the last of the ridges and heard the whimpering not five feet away. He lifted his head slowly and peeked over the top. He had to stifle a gasp when he saw what it was.

A man lay on the stony ground, his black hair thickly matted with mud from the water's edge. His breathing was hoarse and his hands were mangled ruins, as eight of his fingers had been cut off at the knuckle. But that was not the worst of it. Down the centre of his chest, there was a long gash. The front of his cloak was drenched in blood and he was lying in pools of it. Every now and then, he would retch loudly, each cough spraying blood onto the stone around him.

Throwing caution to the winds, Harry ripped off his cloak and shoved it into his pocket. He leapt over the stone obstacle between him and the other man and leant over him urgently, "Can you hear me?"

The man's eyes snapped forwards and he stared at Harry for a moment before gasping with pain again. He coughed up large chunks of blood before returning his gaze to Harry. Harry saw fear in the man's eyes, but of what, he couldn't say, "We have to get you to the hospital wing."

If it was possible, the man's eyes widened further. "No!" he gasped as a drop of blood ran out of his mouth and down his chest, "He will find me there. He can find me anywhere!"

Harry felt a chill run down his back, "Who will find you? What are you talking about?"

The man was reduced to gasping for breath, before grabbing the front of Harry's robes and pulling him close, "You … he wants you … I failed …" His voice faded into a gurgle. Harry felt cold; the man was drowning in his own blood.

"Don't move! I'll get help!"

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Harry leapt to his feet and pelted back in the direction of the castle, disregarding the intense pain in his foot, yelling for help at the top of his lungs. Waves of fear and panic washed over him at thoughts of the man back at the lakeside. He burst through the front doors of the castle and into the Great Hall, taking no notice of the stares he attracted as he limped up to the head table. McGonagall was watching him with a mixture of surprise and anger.

"Mr. Potter, I made my intentions quite clear that I didn't want-" She cut off abruptly when she noticed the blood on the front of Harry's robes.

"There's no time, Professor," Harry said exasperatedly, "There's a man down by the lake. He's dying."

All signs of anger evaporated from the Headmistress' face. She looked off balance for a moment, then her face set and she pointed toward the door, "Lead the way, Mr. Potter."

Once more ignoring the stares of the hundreds of occupants of the hall, Harry led McGonagall out of the Hall and out of the castle. He practically ran to the shoreline, every now and then glancing back to make sure the Headmistress was still following. He jumped over the last few ridges of rock, making his left foot scream in protest. His stomach jolted when he saw there was nobody there. The man who had been lying here dying was gone.

He heard McGonagall arrive beside him, but he didn't really acknowledge her presence. He looked around wildly, searching for signs of the man who had lain here not ten minutes ago. There was nothing; even the blood was gone.

"Harry," McGonagall said gently. Harry turned to look at her, beating down the feeling of dread that had risen inside him. There had to be some explanation pointing him in the right direction, there just had to be. He had been right _there_.

"Harry," McGonagall said kindly, "We had better get back to the castle."

"He was lying right here," Harry said, his frustration getting the better of him, "I swear Professor."

"Potter, there's nothing here," McGonagall said, an air of finality ringing in her firm voice, "It's past time we return to the school. And return you to the hospital wing." She added.

"Then where did the blood on my shirt come from," he said stubbornly.

McGonagall had had enough, "Mr. Potter if you insist on wasting my time on these matters, I will make sure that you are under guard and supervision until the time when Madam Pomfrey sees fit to release you."

Harry glared at her, but reluctantly followed her back up the hill towards the castle. He glanced over his shoulder once or twice, as if to make sure that the dying man was really gone. As they approached the door, it occurred to him to warn McGonagall about the burnt lock, but as she was currently in his bad books, he let it 'accidentally' slip his mind.

McGonagall accompanied him as far as the door of the Hospital Wing. With one more disapproving look, she moved off to attend to her duties.

Harry cautiously pushed through the doors of the ward. A furious Madam Pomfrey swooped down on him as he tried to sneak back to his bed. He shrank away from her rage, trying not to snarl at Hermione who was looking at him in a way that shouted 'I told you so'.

Madam Pomfrey almost had apoplexy when she saw the blood stains on the front of his clothes, nearly tearing him out of his clothes and forcing him back into bed. He barely managed to stuff his wand and Invisibility Cloak into his rucksack before she forced a steaming potion down his throat.

He glared at Hermione and Ron, who was guffawing at him stupidly, and then became inexplicably drowsy. He managed to cough out a single insult before the potion knocked him out.

------------------

Two days later, Harry was finally released from the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had been unwilling to let him go, but had let him off with a warning not to do too much running in the nearby future and given him a prescription of dreamless sleep potions. Harry walked out with Ron and Hermione by his side, disgruntled at the long delayed departure. His ankle made Harry wince every now and then, but mostly it didn't bother him.

"I've got to tell you something," Harry whispered to them as soon as they were clear of the Hospital Wing. He hadn't had an opportunity to talk to them alone yet, since he had so many visitors and well wishers coming in daily. Before they reached the Great Hall, Harry had filled them in on everything he had seen.

"Harry, are you sure this man was … real?" Hermione said, disbelief evident in her voice. The lack of faith from his best friend annoyed Harry; he would have thought that after all this time and after all the adventures they had gone through together, she might at least believe him on a matter like this.

"Of course I'm sure," he said hotly, "I'm not going mad Hermione. If you choose not to believe me then that's your decision."

"But Harry," Ron interjected, "Where'd the bloke go then? If a man's drowning in his own blood he's not going to just get up and walk away."

"Maybe the attacker came back," said Harry desperately, throwing himself into a seat opposite Seamus, "He could have finished the fellow off and then cleaned up after himself."

Hermione looked doubtful, "Harry, according to you, this man looked like he had been lying there for a while. What are the odds that for the few seconds you walk away, the murderer comes back and finishes the job?"

Harry flung up his hands in frustration, tearing into a bowl of meat balls. The truth was, he was no longer sure if he had seen the man himself. So many people were questioning him, and he was not a hundred percent certain of his own claims. Maybe he had been seeing things.

Their departure had been arranged for after dinner. They would go straight to the Headmistress' office and Floo from there to the Burrow. Bill, Charlie and Mrs Weasley had left the previous night and to Harry's grim satisfaction, they had taken Ginny with them.

Harry tried to savour what would be his last meal at Hogwarts, but the food felt tasteless in his mouth. After another minute of trying to force down some food, Harry pushed his plate away. He couldn't be going mad, could he?

They reached McGonagall's office as the last rays of the sun shone through the upper windows. She barely glanced at them as they entered, although she did give Harry a rather searching look.

"The powder is on the mantel," she said absently, turning back to her work. The three of them nodded their thanks. The picture of Armando Dippet, hanging over the grate, smiled warmly at them as they approached. Ron went first, grabbing a large handful of the Floo powder from above the fireplace and stepping into the empty grate. With a shout of 'The Burrow', emerald green flames enveloped Ron and he was gone. Hermione smiled at Harry and with another bright green flash she was gone.

"Potter, could I have a word with you please," McGonagall said as Harry took his own fistful of Floo powder. Harry glanced at her in surprise, but carefully dropped the powder back in the pot and sat opposite the Headmistress.

"Harry, I want you to take this summer off," McGonagall said. Seeing the confusion etched into his features, she continued, "I don't want you getting into any trouble. You've just defeated the most powerful Dark wizard of all time, so you've probably made as many enemies as you have friends," Harry remembered Bill using almost exactly the same words, "So I want you to, how do Muggles put it, lie low for the summer."

Harry chuckled, "Don't worry, Professor. I have no intention of drawing attention to myself this year. I think I've had enough of being famous for one life."

She smiled, standing up, "Until next term, Potter."

"Goodbye Professor." He walked over to the empty fireplace and grabbed another fist of Floo powder. He glanced over to the portrait of Dumbledore in the corner. The onetime Headmaster smiled warmly at him with a twinkle in his eye. Harry grinned back before walking into the hearth. Tucking his elbows in carefully, he dropped the powder in his hand. Emerald green flames shot up around him; hot, but not burning. With a nod to Headmistress McGonagall, he called out clearly, "The Burrow!"

Harry started to spin, spiralling up and out of McGonagall's office. He saw thousands of fireplaces shoot by him as he spun through that strange place in between firesides. He felt himself begin to slow, and then the spinning stopped. With a loud _thump_ he found himself standing in the fireplace of the Burrow. He sighed and stepped out, trying to quell the disquiet in his stomach and wiping his glasses on his cloak. Floo travel did not agree with him.

Looking around, Harry felt a rush of affection for the first place he had called home. A clock hung on the wall above the mantel, rather different from the traditional Muggle clock. Instead of numbers, its face was surrounded by names of locations and situations. The hands, each symbolic of a member of the family, having been continuously pointing to 'Mortal Peril' for the last three years, were all pointed toward 'Home'.

Something rubbed itself up against his legs and Harry glanced down to see a bundle of ginger fur lying at his feet. He bent over and scratched Crookshanks behind the ears. The cat purred in content. Glancing around for signs of Ron and Hermione, Harry pushed past the comfy sofas and walked through the door to the kitchen.

Ron and Hermione were sitting at the table with Ginny, speaking quickly and earnestly. Well, Hermione was talking and Ron was nodding, putting in his own word every now and then. Whatever they were talking about, Ginny didn't look best pleased with them. Then she caught sight of Harry. With a very loud _ahem_, she murmured something to Ron and Hermione and then left the room, acting as if Harry didn't exist.

"She just won't let it go, will she?" he muttered angrily, sitting down across from his best friends.

Hermione opened her mouth indignantly, but shut it when she got a warning look from Ron. She contented herself with a dark glare at Harry over the table.

"Oh Harry you're here," Mrs Weasley said, bustling into the kitchen, "Wonderful. I must thank you for sending Kreacher over. He's been most helpful around here."

Harry grinned, "It's no trouble at all Mrs Weasley. Speaking of Kreacher, where is he?" He glanced around, half expecting to see the house-elf cooking a steak and kidney pie.

"He'll be down in the garden," she replied, grimacing, "He seems to take a strange pleasure in conversing with the gnomes that live down there. Not going to help getting rid of the little blighters, but anyway …"

Harry laughed, a funny image forming in his mind of Kreacher and three gnomes sitting on toadstools and having a civilised conversation. Ron chuckled and even Hermione smiled tentatively. Harry considered this a giant leap when he thought about her view of elven 'slave labour'.

Mrs Weasley waved her wand and a large knife flew out of a drawer, narrowly missing Harry's head when it flew toward a chopping board. With a few more flicks of her wrist she had dinner in motion; potatoes were peeling themselves over the bin, vegetables were boiling in a pot above the stove and a knife was carving up some meat above the basin.

"Bill, Charlie," Mrs Weasley called upstairs, "George, Ginny, dinner will be ready in five minutes." A chorus of shouts echoed down, followed slowly by the thumping of several sets of feet marching downstairs. Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at the first person through the door, "Charlie, could you set down the plates, please?"

Charlie nodded and moments later the plates and cutlery were floating out of the cupboard and settling themselves on the table. Harry leant back as a particularly eager plate rocketed past him, shooting off the end of the table and smashing on the floor. Mrs Weasley glared at Charlie, who hastily repaired the plate.

"Dad's on his way," Bill said as he entered the kitchen. Sure enough, a few seconds later Mr Weasley walked through the back door.

"Hello all," he said cheerfully. Everyone called a general greeting to him. Spying Harry, he smiled, "Good to see you again, Harry. I must say I got a little worried when I heard you'd been attacked again. But, as usual, you're alright again."

He sat down at the head of the table, while Mrs Weasley began serving up food. Harry found himself seated between Bill and Mrs Weasley. He ignored Hermione, who kept shooting pointed looks between Harry and Ginny. He was very thankful when Ron finally cottoned on and made her stop.

Dinner was delicious, all the more so because Harry hadn't really eaten anything before they left Hogwarts. It was a stew made from red meat, boiled vegetable and a creamy sauce, with mashed potatoes on the side. Harry noticed that Mrs Weasley kept shooting worried looks towards the stairs. At last, she whispered something in Bill's ear and the eldest Weasley nodded. He filled up a plate with food and disappeared upstairs.

"We've been having some trouble since you defeated You-Kn … Voldemort, Harry," he said conversationally. Seeing the look on Harry's face, he hastily added, "Nothing serious; just a few young wizards playing around for celebrations. Some just don't know when they've taken it too far."

Harry and Ron both finished off third courses, each trying to outdo the other. Everyone gave them disgusted looks when the two them lowered their heads to their plates, groaning. Mrs Weasley sent them to bed with a look of the most severe disapproval on her face.

"That," Ron said, as he struggled up the stairs, "was brilliant."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed thickly.

Hermione just shook her head in exasperation. They reached the landing where Ginny's room was and she bade them goodnight, opening the door a little way and slipping in.

The two young men made their way up to Ron's room, passing Bill on the way, who was heading back down. Something clicked in Harry's mind.

"Where did Bill take that plate of food?" Harry asked Ron. Surprisingly, Ron gave him a weighing glance then put his finger to his lips, asking for silence. When they were within the small confines of Ron's room, Ron pointed his wand at the door, whispering, "Muffliato."

Harry looked at him expectantly, "Well … what is it?"

"It's George," Ron said finally, and Harry felt his heart sink, realising George hadn't been at dinner, "He hasn't exactly been himself since, you know …"

Harry nodded gravely. Fred's death during the Battle of Hogwarts would surely take a long time to sink in to the tight-knit Weasley family, especially for his twin brother George. The two of them had been inseparable, planning and building their joke shop, the Weasley Wizard Wheezes. The loss of what would seem like half of your soul would be worse than death for many.

"He's hardly come out of his room since then," Ron continued in hushed tones, "Mum's been getting really worried. For some reason, the only one who can get anything out of him is Ginny."

Harry took a deep breath, pushing down the anger coursing through his veins. Ginny's name alone should _not_ stir any fury, it was unreasonable. Ron seemed to sense his mood and hurriedly began changing into his pyjamas. Harry changed and climbed into the sleeping bag which had been set up on the floor, carefully placing his glasses on the bedside cabinet.

After a few minutes, a quiet snoring began to drift over from Ron's side of the room. A few minutes more, and Harry felt his own eyelids beginning to fall …

--------------------

A black haired child ran around a well groomed yard, laughing. His emerald green eyes sparkled with excitement. Once or twice he glanced back into the shade of the house and smiled at the figures of his proud parents.

Without warning, the happy scene dissolved.

The Philosopher's Stone weighed heavy in his pocket as Quirrell bore down on him … the sword of Godric Gryffindor felt light as a feather as he stabbed fiercely through the skull of the basilisk … the rat fled off into the night as the werewolf reared its head and howled at the moon … Cedric Diggory crumpled to the ground in a flash of green light … Sirius' face looked surprised as he fell through the veil … Dumbledore flew over the side of the tower … it was too much!

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. Realising where he was, he glanced at his watch. It read one thirty.

Sighing, he reached over and started rummaging through his rucksack. He grabbed a hold of something large and gave a sharp tug. With a quiet curse, he managed to pull the book out of the bag. Making sure Ron was still asleep, he grabbed his wand, whispering, "Lumos." A light sprung from the end of his wand and he began to read. It was hard, as he was exhausted.

But it was easier than the dreams that plagued his sleep.

**I'm sort of buggered; i dont know what could happen in the summer holidays. ive got an idea but i need help. basically; REVIEW AND GIVE ME IDEAS**


	5. Decision and Conversations

**Chapter ****4**

**Decision and Conversation****s**

A loud shriek pulled Harry from his sleep, thrusting him once more into the real world. It took him a moment to realize that the scream was one he knew; it was Hermione's voice. He grasped around in the bleary morning light, searching desperately for his wand; Ron was nowhere in sight. After a few seconds of wrestling with his blankets, it rolled out of the folds onto the wooden floor boards with a clatter. Harry snatched it up as he ran for the door, roughly pulling a cloak around his shoulders as he went.

He was sure the yell had come from the front yard. He glanced out a window on the way down the stairs, but the view was obstructed by the eaves of the lower levels. He jumped the last few steps. Mrs. Weasley was standing in the doorway, tears in her eyes. To Harry's surprise, a smile was playing at the corners of her lips. He peered past her through the doorframe.

Hermione was standing at the garden gate, her arms wrapped around two people Harry recognized as her parents, in a constricting bear hug. Tears were streaming down the reunited family's faces as they whispered assurances of good health and sobbed in each other's ears. Ron was standing to one side in his own maroon robe. His wand dangled loosely in his fingers at his side. He threw Harry a small smile before turning back to Hermione's reunion with her family.

Hermione managed to break apart herself from her parents for a moment, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried forwards, making offers of temporary residence to the Grangers. It didn't take much convincing; Hermione had used a Memory Charm so powerful that the Grangers had sold their house before moving to Australia, effectively leaving them homeless. It had taken six of the highest members of the St. Mungo's staff to successfully restore the Granger's memories. Harry felt a burst of pride; Hermione was going to be a great Obliviator.

When everyone found their way back to the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley, still with a hint of tears in her eyes, started to whip up a massive breakfast. Any who ventured to approach her were given tasks, bar the new arrivals. Harry watched in amusement as each of the Weasley boys were given jobs. He pointedly glanced away as Ginny entered the room. Seconds later the door to the yard slammed and Harry turned to see Bill, Charlie and Ron glaring daggers at him as a mane of red hair whipped out of sight around the corner of the house. He shrugged and engaged the nearest person in conversation. He sincerely regretted this when Mr. Weasley began to interrogate him on the use of light bulbs.

"Hey Harry, come over here for a minute," Ron called. Trying very hard not to look relieved, Harry left a disappointed Mr. Weasley and threaded his way across the room to Ron.

"You're a life saver," Harry whispered to his best friend.

Ron chuckled, "Yeah, Dad gets a bit carried away sometimes but he's alright. Any minute now he'll realize that the Grangers are Muggles, and for the rest of the holidays they're not going to have a few second's peace without Dad giving them a drilling about a few more Muggle type things. But anyway …" he hesitated.

Harry saw the look on his face and instantly knew what Ron was about to say, "No."

"I didn't say anything," said Ron in protest, turning a brilliant shade of red.

"Ron I'm not talking about it," he said firmly, squashing any more attempts to bring Ginny up. Ron looked sullen for a moment but brightened when he saw Hermione coming over.

"Ron, did-" the rest of her sentence was wiped out as Ron swept her into his arms and into a deep kiss. After a few seconds, Harry became decidedly uncomfortable and cleared his throat loudly. The two stood up abruptly, both with cheeks and ears tinged pink. The four parents were standing in shocked silence; Harry could see both Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger's eyebrows receding into their hairlines. Bill and Charlie whistled appreciatively.

"About time," Charlie whispered in Harry's ear, nudging him with his elbow, "I thought Ron was never going to do it." Harry grinned, refraining from telling them all about Ron and Hermione's dramatic return from the Chamber of Secrets during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Anyway," Hermione said, obviously trying her best not to see the sharp looks the two mothers kept shooting her and Ron, "What I came to ask was if Ron had got an answer out of you yet, Harry." By now Harry was getting well and truly annoyed. It was really none of their business.

"Look if you two want to get together and have a few private snog sessions that's your business," he said forcefully, "But you have no right to try and force me to apologize to someone who doesn't want me to anyway." Ron and Hermione took his rant rather well, or, as good as anyone can take being rebuked by your best friend. Hermione gave Harry a hard look and then stalked over to her parents. Ron shook his head in exasperation, shot Harry a quick glare and then followed Hermione, leaving Harry alone near the doorway.

"Fancy a game of Quidditch, Harry?" Charlie asked, coming up behind him, "Although, we'd better wait until breakfast is over; Mum might strangle me if I skip it after she went to this much trouble." They chanced a glance toward the bench and saw several dishes of butter being whisked at once, Mrs. Weasley standing behind them with her wand pointing at them.

Harry grinned, "Sounds great."

Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself. When everyone was finally seated, the table seemed to groan under the weight of so much food. There were three plates of sausages and bacon, with two plates of eggs resting in the middle. Four flasks of pumpkin juice sat in the middle of the table, and toast would periodically shoot out of the pantry and cook itself above the flames in the hearth before flying over and landing on the plates of the feasting people.

The Grangers had been seated between Hermione and, to their misfortune, Mr. Weasley. He was questioning them relentlessly about their jobs as dentists. Every now and then Harry heard him mutter words like, 'Remarkable' and 'Simply amazing what you Muggles can do without magic'. Fleur had arrived from Shell Cottage this morning and was talking to Mrs. Weasley about children and grandchildren with a very pink Bill putting in a word here and there.

Today, both Ginny and George were missing from the table, with Bill once again disappearing upstairs with a plate full of food in his hand. Ginny hadn't been seen since she stormed out of the house.

As soon as he was finished Harry raced up the stairs to get changed, still ignoring Ron and Hermione. After he had pulled on some old clothes, and given himself a sharp reminder to get some new casual robes, he hurried back down. Charlie was standing ready at the door. Bill was with him and to Harry's surprise, Fleur was there too.

"I 'ave yet to learn ze way to play zis game," she said in heavily accented French, "Per'aps I would be better if were to watch you boys for a while." The three boys grimaced but Bill put an arm around his wife and led her outside, Harry and Charlie following behind. They reached the broom shed and the two Weasley brothers pulled out a pair of old Cleansweeps. Harry felt a twinge of sadness as he remembered the remains of his Firebolt. The Weasleys seemed to sense his mood as they gave him the broom that appeared to have the least splinters.

The place where they usually played Quidditch at the Burrow was a large field that had stopped being used for agriculture long ago. The only evidence of its history was an abandoned tractor lying in the corner, almost swallowed by the long grass that covered the field. Trees surrounded it, effectively hiding it from the eyes of the Muggle world.

They were jumping the fence into the field when they realised there was somebody already there. Harry stiffened when he saw who. Ginny was doing some lazy circles in the air, apparently unaware of the new arrivals. The old makeshift Quidditch rings were hovering at the other end of the field, with a few old Quaffles lying beneath them.

"Oi," Bill shouted, "Ginny!" The Weasley girl turned and waved at them. Without warning she went into a steep dive, rocketing toward them. Harry felt his jaw drop as she pulled up just in time, making a perfect landing. Even _he_ had trouble with those.

"Hey Bill, Charlie, Fleur," she said, cheerful at first. Upon catching sight of the fourth person, her voice became suddenly cool, "Harry."

"Ginny," he said stiffly. The other three cast nervous glances at the two of them. Ginny's chocolate brown eyes were burning with an inner flame as she stared fiercely into Harry's own unusually harsh emerald green ones.

"Well what are we waiting for," Harry said irritably, breaking eye contact first, "Let's play some Quidditch." It did nothing to help his temper when the others breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Can I play?" Ginny inquired sweetly. Harry felt a strong urge to shout 'NO!' at her, but decided it would seem quite immature, so let the others decide instead. He felt his face fall when he realised that both Bill and Charlie considered Ginny as their favourite sibling. Sure enough, both of them nodded at her request. A little voice warned him that it was going to be a long morning.

The sky was cloudless, the weather fine. Harry was a little nervous, as he had only left the Hospital Wing the previous afternoon, his reasons for being there the same as where he was now. But as he kicked off from the ground, and the cool air streamed past him, he felt his worries slip away. The broom's handling and speed were nothing like his Firebolt, but it didn't matter once he was in the air. Once more, he was carefree, relaxed.

"Harry," called Charlie. Harry turned to see that they were all hovering a little way off. Beyond them he could see the Burrow just rising past the trees, with the village of Ottery St. Catchpole just visible in the distance.

Charlie held out a fist and showed them several sticks poking out the top. "We're drawing straws to see who the captains are," he explained. They all pulled out one each; Ginny and Bill got the short ones. Soon the teams were set; Bill, Fleur and Harry on one side, with Charlie and Ginny on the other. It was pretty fair considering Bill was only an average player while Fleur was terrible.

At two points in the game Harry was almost knocked off his broom by Ginny who passed dangerously close at lightning speeds. She didn't even glance at him as she nearly hit him for the fifth time. He tried to keep a sharp rein on his temper but could feel himself getting angrier by the moment. There was no reason for her to treat him this way.

He forced her to the back of his mind, trying to focus on finding the Snitch, or rather, the rock that had been painted gold and enchanted to do the Snitch's job. Charlie was circling far above, searching the pitch below him. Anyone who saw them from a distance would just think them to be large birds or something similar.

He caught sight of a bright glint in the corner of his eye. Turning slightly on his broom, he saw the 'Snitch' floating underneath the rings at Bill's end of the field. He sped off in the direction of the hoops, urging the old broom to move faster. He could hear the distinct sound of Charlie speeding along beside him. A sudden tug jerked him to a halt. He glanced over his shoulder and felt his blood boil. Ginny was holding onto the end of his broom, preventing him from reaching the Snitch. Charlie shot forward, arm outstretched. In the last second, it zoomed out of reach and disappeared. Harry shook Ginny off furiously, trying very hard not to see the smug look on her face. He would have got that Snitch, and she knew it.

They played for a little over an hour more before Bill called it off. He had been getting nervous with the amount of times Ginny had nearly knocked Harry off his broom by throwing the Quaffle straight at him. They finally landed in the field and started to troop back toward the house. Judging by the looks passing between the younger two, Bill guessed he had just prevented murder.

"I'll take the brooms back to the shed," Harry volunteered, shooting another icy glare at Ginny. Bill sighed in relief. As long as Harry managed to avoid Ginny after this, everyone just might have a peaceful afternoon. Apparently his hopes were in vain.

"I'll help."

If looks could kill, both Harry and Ginny would have burnt each other to cinders. They stopped and just stared into each others eyes, each waiting for the other to break contact. Harry broke first, grabbing Bill's and Fleur's brooms, throwing them over his shoulder and marching on toward the broom shed. Ginny huffed, grabbed Charlie's broom and chased after him.

"Harry."

He ignored her.

"Harry."

Slightly harder to ignore this time.

"Harry, I'm warning you!"

It was hard to ignore shouting, but he managed it.

_Whack!_

"Heavens above!" he roared, "What's wrong with you?" Ginny had hit him over the head with one of the brooms she was carrying, effectively knocking him over.

"You weren't listening," she said imperiously. He glared up at her, slowly disentangling himself from the pile of brooms and climbing to his feet. She was watching him cautiously, as if worried he might spring at any moment.

"You really shouldn't have done that," Harry said angrily.

"You should have listened," Ginny snorted.

"Why should I listen?" he demanded, "You've been perfectly unreasonable since I finally defeated the most powerful Dark wizard in a millennium."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Harry ploughed on, "You had no right to treat me like the enemy. I was trying save the woman I was in love with. But I finally return and what do I find? The woman I wanted to save was nothing more than a silly little girl."

She gave Harry a furious glare before turning on her heel and running toward the house.

Lunch was subdued, although both Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger kept shooting suspicious looks at both Ron and Hermione. While Harry would normally take the opportunity to tease his friends, he was finding it impossible not to notice the death glares Bill and Charlie were shooting him. He ate the quickest, and ran to Ron's room before either of them could make a move.

On the first floor, Harry heard a sound he had not expected to hear; the muffled noises of sobbing. He faltered. He had not intended to hurt Ginny to this extent. Hoping that she wasn't in one of her worse moods, he eased the door open. A blast of bright yellow light flashed past his ear, and he hastily slammed shut the door again. For a moment there was silence apart from the sobs echoing through the wood. Then he knocked. It seemed a good idea.

"Go away!" she wailed, "I don't want to talk to anyone."

"It's Harry," Harry said hurriedly. The crying seemed to stop, as if in shock, but then continued worse than before, "Ginny, let me in." 

The door was flung open with such force that Harry took a step back. To tell the truth, he had not really expected her to open up to him at all. He moved in cautiously, aware of the possibility that Ginny could hex him anytime.Ginny was sitting on her bed, giving Harry one of her fiercer glares. Tears were streaming down her face, which was almost as red as her fiery hair.

"What do you want Harry?" she said in a dangerously low voice. He knew that voice; she was on the verge of cursing him into tomorrow.

"I just wanted to talk to you for a minute," Harry said soothingly. He sat down at her desk, glancing at the wand in her hand. His own was still in the loop at his belt, unreachable.

"I'm not sure I want to listen," Ginny said bitterly.

"Well, just hear me out."

"In case you hadn't noticed," Ginny said darkly, "I have been willing to hear your story ever since we got together. I _wanted_ to hear your side of it. You had no idea how much it hurt that you would keep things from me, but would always share them with Ron and Hermione. For heaven's sake Harry, I was your girlfriend." By the end of it, the tone of her voice had changed from wrathful, to miserable.

"I was trying to protect you," he said earnestly, his eyes pleading with her to understand, "You would have been moved straight to the top of Voldemort's hit list. What was I supposed to do? Let you go back to Hogwarts with the whole world knowing that you and I were a couple? You might as well have painted a target on your back."

"And I told you I didn't care about all that," Ginny said fiercely, "Did you think for one minute that maybe everybody already knew about us, and that I was a target anyway? Did you consider how I felt about just letting you go off on a task that proved too much for Albus Dumbledore himself? You didn't even tell me where you were going."

"I couldn't tell you," Harry snapped, "Making sure that nobody knew where we were at any time was paramount to our mission. News has ways of leaking out, and if Voldemort had even the faintest idea of what we had been looking for, our task would have been over before you could say 'Horcrux'."

"Do you really think I would be that careless?" Ginny demanded, "No, you knew I could keep any secret of yours. It was your bloody 'saving people' thing, _and_ you refused to trust me. Hermione was absolutely right; you think you can take responsibility for everything on your own." Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny ploughed on, "Do you think you could hide things from me, and then expect me to welcome you back with open arms? Did you think I would smile and say that all is forgiven?"

"You didn't share all of your secrets with me!" Harry replied angrily, his frustration starting to get the better of him, "You never told me what happened within the Chamber of Secrets!"

Ginny looked shocked, and to Harry's surprise a single tear traced its way down her cheek. "Did you ever ask?" she screeched, "You told me yourself in you fifth year that you had forgotten. Do you have any idea how that made _me_ feel?"

She took a shuddering breath and then looked Harry in the eye, "You can't expect me to trust you with my secrets, if you yourself don't trust me. Until you learn not to completely rely on yourself, there can be nothing between us Harry." Ginny turned away from him, and wrapped her fingers around the windowsill. Her knuckles had turned white; she was struggling not to tremble.

To say Harry was shocked would be an understatement. Without a word, he got to his feet and left the room. He felt dazed. Ginny had brought everything he had mishandled into the forefront of his mind, and he wasn't sure he was ready for what was awaiting him. She had told him exactly what he hadn't wanted to hear; the truth of his nature. The past three years had made him a hard, untrusting person. And now that he realised it, he hated it.

Harry didn't exactly know where his feet took him. He vaguely remembered walking along the road leading to town, before turning off and ending up in the field that sat next to the Burrow. As he sat down, he looked back up to the home of the Weasleys and sighed.

She was right. He didn't like it, but people rarely like the truth. And this time Ginny was telling it to his face, and perhaps against his will he had heard the truth; he was unprepared to take responsibility for his actions. Even in the last few moments with her, he had tried to offload the blame for his situation onto her head. Black clouds cloaked the sun far overhead, darkening the earth, accurately reflecting Harry's emotions. He felt a jab of jealousy in his gut; why did things always happen to him. If he could have been normal, wouldn't that have made things so much simpler? Why was he chosen as the one to be the savior of the wizarding world? He stood abruptly, kicking a stone as hard as he could. It struck a tree, bouncing off onto the ground harmlessly.

It came to him suddenly, surprising him enough to make him sit down back down. It had always been someone or something else that drove him on to complete his destiny. Ginny had said it, without really meaning to. From the day he was born, his fate had been sealed by the words of a half-seer in a crumbling inn. It had never been his choice where his life would lead. It had always been someone else, turning him every which way, carefully guiding his footsteps in the hope that he would one day overcome Voldemort. Even in death, Dumbledore had managed to guide him through his journey of hunting and destroying through his assistant, Severus Snape, and his brother, Aberforth. Harry had never fully taken _responsibility_ for his own actions; there had always been someone else to break his fall. Who did Ginny have to look after her and tell her everything would be alright when times got rough, or when nightmares haunted her through the darkest hours?

He stood resolutely. He would not allow others to fix his problems anymore. He would accept the responsibility that was given to him, and any troubles he caused would be solved by him. He stood resolutely and marched off toward the Burrow, with only one thought in mind. A girl lived in that house, and he knew that one way or another, he was going to win her trust back.

------------------

Harry was very careful when he entered the back door. He didn't know just how far Bill and Charlie would be willing to go for their revenge, but he did know enough not to underestimate them. He slipped his wand up his sleeve and eased the door shut as quietly as he could. He winced when it squeaked loudly on rusty hinges. Mrs. Weasley wasn't cooking in the kitchen, so he assumed she was in the cozy sitting room. He crept towards the stairs on tiptoe, trying very hard not to bump into anything or make any noise. He reached the staircase without any sort of trouble and climbed it to the first floor landing, being careful to skip the last, creaking stair. Harry stopped there for a moment, listening. But there were no sounds of sniffling or crying so he moved on. Privately he was a little relieved; he wasn't sure if he was ready to face her before at least a little bit of coaching.

He stopped another floor up. On his left was the door to Percy's room and it was firmly closed. Although he was once more on good terms with his family, the third Weasley had kept his apartment in London. It was easier to reach the Ministry from there than here, he had pointed out. Harry hadn't seen the logic in this, as wizards could Apparate, but didn't comment. He had heard that Percy was the chief of the opposition to Umbridge, defying her at every turn and discrediting all the motions she was making. This had renewed Harry's respect for the Weasley; some of his nightmares involved the toady witch.

The door on his right was slightly ajar. Harry felt a pang when he realised it was Fred and George's old room. He moved closer and peered in. Bill and Charlie were both sitting on Fred's bed, sharing frequent anxious looks. Harry felt his stomach roll over when he saw the hunched form of George, wrapped up in a long black cloak. In less than two weeks, the remaining twin had withered. There were large black bags under his eyes and his skin had an unhealthy yellowish hue added to his normally pale complexion. His red hair was messy and knotted, and he had a short growth of beard on his chin. He turned his head for a second and Harry felt a chill. His eyes, once so full of life, were hollow; empty shells of what once was.

"You've got to eat, George," Charlie was saying. He looked exasperated. George turned his dead stare to his older brother. Charlie was holding a plate out to him. The platter was laden with all kinds of food. George turned away again, exposing his misshapen ear. Harry shivered when he saw it; that was a testament to one of the bigger mistakes Snape had made during the war.

Bill leaned forward and grabbed his brother's shoulder, speaking firmly, "You don't have a choice, George. Mum's really worried; you've got to eat or you'll starve."

To Harry's surprise, George spoke. His voice was a rasp, filled with scorn, "Fred can't eat ever again, and you're worried about me missing a few meals."

Bill looked hurt, but George appeared not to notice. Charlie shook his head and watched his younger brother reproachfully. George glared at him scathingly before picking up one of the sandwiches tentatively and taking a bite out of the corner. He gagged like someone who hadn't eaten in days. Feeling quite worse than he had before he looked in, Harry resolved to speak to George before he left for his last year at Hogwarts. With that in mind he continued on his way upstairs.

The door to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room was shut firmly. Harry had no doubt that the two of them considered their bedroom as a sort of refuge from the wild events that occurred on and around their property. He grinned when he remembered the amount of times Mrs. Weasley had come here to hide last summer when Fleur worked herself up over the wedding preparations. The smile faded when Harry recalled just how that evening had ended for him.

He finally reached the top landing, just below the attic, when a funny noise made him stop. It wasn't the ghoul; that strange being had been recently been moved back into the attic. And from what Harry understood from Charlie and Bill's dark mutterings, it hadn't stopped banging on the pipes since. No, this sounded more like a giggle. He approached the door to Ron's room and pressed his ear against it. A few muffled groans and more giggles escaped through the wood. Harry felt his eyebrows recede into his hairline, and despite his earlier vow to grow up, almost giggled himself. He didn't think Hermione would have forgotten something as simple as a Silencing charm in a situation like this. Then again, if she had, he may not have heard them first, and walked straight in. He felt himself blush as he imagined the consequences.

Harry turned and crept back down the hallway, descending several steps as well. This time, he made a point of making as much noise as possible, knocking three times very loudly. There was a bit of scrabbling around on the other side of the door, followed by some frantic whispers. After another hushed minute, the door opened a crack, before being opened up the whole way. Hermione looked almost normal, except for a few rumples in her shirt and skirt. Ron, sitting alone on the bed, was a different story. The bright orange colours of his room might almost have distracted Harry from his best friend's hair, which was sticking out at all angles, or from his plain grey shirt that was inside out. But it was next to impossible to ignore the disgruntled look he was throwing Harry.

Feeling the corners of his mouth quirking, Harry murmured, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No," she said hastily, "Not at all." Harry gave her a knowing look and she had the grace to blush. Glancing at Ron, he saw his best mate had his mouth open, as if he wanted to say something else. Harry slipped past Hermione and plopped himself down on the bed next to Ron.

"We were just talking about you," Hermione said from the door, obviously trying to form a believable lie. Harry just snorted.

"You know," he said conversationally, "Locking and silencing charms are really useful when you don't want to be interrupted." What he said had the desired effect. Ron's ears turned bright red while Hermione's mouth formed a silent 'Oh'.

They both started blurting out excuses at once, ranging from, "Don't be silly, Harry, you don't know what you heard," to "It really wasn't how it sounded mate," to "I'm sure you were imagining it." Harry held up his hand and the other two became quiet straight away.

"If you wanted some privacy," he began innocently, "You could have just sent me away." Hermione and Ron did the one thing Harry knew they would. They looked at each other, somehow telepathically conveying messages between the two of them without saying anything. He would have to figure out how to do that someday.

"I'll take these clothes down to the laundry," Hermione said finally, trying very hard to save face. She gathered an armful of clothes from the floor, holding them at arms length disdainfully, as if afraid of being contaminated. She glanced at the Ron one more time before hurrying out of the room.

Harry couldn't resist, "If you don't want me to intrude on your together time, and you really couldn't be bothered to even do a charm, could you make a sign or something that you could hang on your door so everybody will know to knock rather than enter."

"Shut it you!" said Ron with a scowl, tossing a pillow at his friend's head. Harry chuckled and caught it. Ron continued in a sour voice, "As a matter of fact, I might take you up on that. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like the sign ready by tomorrow afternoon."

If Harry had been expecting a reaction, it wasn't the blunt reply that he got. Ron grinned at his friend's open mouth, and spread his arms wide, "What? Hermione and me are both eighteen now, Harry. We've been adults for a year already."

Harry snorted, "Yet you're sneaking about like two children who just stole Professor McGonagall's cookies." He cut off abruptly, realizing he had swung back to the topic at hand. "Actually Ron, it's childishness and growing up that I'd like to talk to you about." He began pacing, with Ron looking at him expectantly. Finally, he stopped, took a deep breath and faced his friend.

"And about Ginny."

The look on Ron's face when he said this was wary at first. But as Harry remained silent, the expression changed; first to one of confusion, but that was quickly replaced with a large smirk, "I had a feeling you might be coming around, especially when I found this on top of your bed this morning."

Harry felt his face burning as Ron picked up the book he had read the previous night when he couldn't sleep; _Twelve Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches_. He hadn't really taken in what he was reading, or even what book he was holding. All he had wanted was a release from his nightmares.

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," he said coolly, "As of an hour ago, Ginny Weasley is, how did she put it? 'Moving past what we had'." His voice had become bitter by the end.

Ron looked uncomfortable, "I'm sure she'll come around, Harry."

Harry shook his head firmly, "Not unless I learn to trust her; even then I'm not sure if she even _likes_ me anymore! And that's why I need your help, Ron. You have to give me a hand with this. I need Ginny, but I have to convince her to want me back." Ron looked positively alarmed by the note of desperation in his friend's voice. After another moment of staring open mouthed at his best mate, Ron spoke.

"Well," he said slowly, "First thing's first." He pressed the copy of _Twelve Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ into Harry's hands, "You have to read and memorize this; cover to cover."

Harry stared at him for a second, then grinned and turned to the first page. _Chapter 1: Making Peace with an Estranged Witch_…

------------------

Dinner was as very different affair to the tense lunch. Although the looks the eldest two Weasleys continued to give him could hardly be called kind, Harry found himself in a much cheerier mood than at the midday meal. Ginny's face registered shock when he asked her quite civilly if she would mind passing the roast beef. She complied after getting over her initial surprise, but as Harry tucked into his meal, he saw her shoot a very suspicious glance at Hermione, who was not exactly succeeding in her attempts to hide a very smug smile.

"Harry, if you don't mind," Mrs. Weasley suddenly, "Could you possibly take George's meal up to him today? I know you haven't seen him yet and I'm almost certain he would appreciate seeing you again. After all, the three of you were very close." At this nameless mention of Fred, the mother of the Weasley family's lip trembled, and Harry hastily grabbed the plate of food and hurried to the third floor.

He knocked on the hard wood once, waiting. A sound he took for permission to enter resonated from within the room. He pushed the door open with one foot, walking slowly into the room.

George was sitting at his desk, the black cloak still shrouding him. His wand was protruding from one of the pockets. In his hand, a quill was scratching furiously as he wrote. Harry saw an envelope lying on the desk nearby, addressed to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, Diagon Alley. He felt a rush of pity for the twin that was left behind.

"Just leave it on the bed," George rasped suddenly, waving absently at the bed to his left. Harry quickly placed the tray on the pillow. He hurriedly turned to leave, not wanting to intrude on the surviving twin. But when he reached the door, he hesitated. He looked back at George's cloaked form and walked slowly over. George seemed to ignore him. Indeed, he hadn't so much as glanced at Harry since he entered the room.

"George," Harry began tentatively. The twin went very still, dropping his quill on top of his unfinished letter. After a second, he turned, revealing to Harry the shell of his former self. His eyes, once so full of life, were dull. Up close, George looked even gaunter than before.

The Weasley twin stared at him for another second before leaping to his feet with a roar. Harry stepped back, alarmed. But he was quickly disabused of his fears as George grabbed him in a bone crunching hug. Caught off guard, Harry barely managed to keep his feet as his older friend held onto him tightly.

"Harry!" he whispered, "Where've you been for the past few weeks? I've been trying to get Mum to send you up for days." His voice was still harsh, but Harry thought he could hear a tiny bit of warmth in it. Despite himself, he felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't come to see George earlier.

"I've been around," Harry said, breaking out of the embrace, "Helping out at Hogwarts, you know, with the clean up and everything." He saw George's face darken at the mention of the Wizarding school, and hastily changed the subject, "But how have you been doing? How's the joke shop going?"

To Harry's dismay, George grimaced, "Horrible. I've been planning to go back in for a few days, but I haven't got around to it yet. Lee Jordan's in charge of the shop while I'm not there, but it's been falling apart since-"

He broke off, plainly not wanting to talk about Fred. Harry didn't particularly feel like pursuing that line of discussion either, and instead asked, "Have you been working on any new products?"

To Harry's immense relief, a grin with the ghost of his former cheekiness in it appeared on George's lips. Without saying a word, the Weasley fell to his knees and pulled a box from beneath his bed. He rummaged around in it for a minute before pulling out a silver bracelet with a gasp of triumph. Harry stared at him in confusion as George clipped it onto his own wrist.

"May I present to you; the 'Tricky Tracker 4500'," George said proudly, his presentation only marred by the grate of his voice.

"What does it do?" said Harry uncertainly, examining the device wrapped around his friend's forearm.

"What does it do?!" George roared in mock outrage, "This, my friend, is the newest brand of lost and found. Just tell it what you're looking for and the bracelet will point you the way you want to go." Seeing Harry was still confused, he threw up his hands, "A demonstration perhaps."

He pulled the silver thing from his own arm and clipped it onto Harry's. Harry gasped; the damn thing was too tight. Then to his utter astonishment, it grew until it was quite comfortable on his wrist.

"I installed a Fit-All-Sizes Charm," George rasped from his seat at the desk, "It grows and shrinks so it can stay on anyone's arm."

Harry watched it for a moment. When nothing happened, he looked up at George in bewilderment. George tapped his foot impatiently, "You've got to tell it what you've lost."

Feeling very foolish, Harry lifted the bracelet to his mouth and said, "Ron." He was startled as the bracelet tugged on his arm, swinging it around towards the floor. For a second his hand was pointed towards where he guessed the kitchen was, before the flow of magic was cut off and Harry could freely move his hand again.

"That's brilliant," Harry murmured, but his expression became troubled for a moment, "George, couldn't wizards with foul intentions use these to track Dark artifacts?" Even as he said it, a Cloak in the bottom of his trunk, a Stone lying forgotten on the forest floor and a Wand buried carefully in a grave flashed to the forefront of his mind.

He barely held in a sigh of relief as George shook his head, "I'm way ahead of you Harry. I've refined the seeking magic within the bracelet so that it only points to something already owned by the wearer or a person very close to their heart."

Harry glanced up in surprise, as he pried the silver armlet off and handed it back to its maker, "These things can track people?"

George smiled again, and for a minute the hollowness was gone from his eyes, "That's just one of the beauties of this little thing. They'll be on the shelves by next Thursday." He placed the bracelet carefully back in its box before grimacing and turning back to the platter, "I'd better eat this. You'd better get out of here or else they'll think I've eaten you instead." He chuckled, but there was no humor in his mirth.

Harry stood up, deciding it was time to go as George picked up his quill and continued with his letter writing. He reached the door and slipped out onto the stairs. After a moment's thought, he went up instead of down, deciding not to return to dinner but to turn in early. George turned and stared, unseeing, at the door, long after Harry was gone.

------------------

Maddok Alben had to bend over double to fit through the cold, rocky tunnel. It was long and straight, and the chill evening air was icy once trapped within the confines of this hole. But he couldn't be late, so he ignored the cold, rather than shielding himself from it with a warming charm. His grey eyes glinted in the dim light of the lanterns hanging from the walls.

Cobwebs lined the walls of the narrow passage, occasionally getting tangled in Maddok's wild black hair. He hurriedly brushed it away. If he _was_ late, well, he would have a lot more than spiders to deal with. His master was not a forgiving man.

He came to an abrupt halt as the tunnel came to a dead end. Maddok frowned, glancing back the way he had come. He was sure there had been no turns in the path. Looking back to the way forward, he pulled out his wand, muttering "Lumos" as he pointed it at the apparently blank wall. The cave's end was filled with sudden light. Maddok tried to take no notice of the trickle of icy fear in the pit of his stomach as he ran his hand over the smooth stone.

He almost gasped with relief when he found a jutting piece of stone. Remembering his master's orders, he turned the rock one full circle to the right, and then a half circle to the left. The combination was complete. With a groan, the rock slid out of place, revealing a trapdoor. Pocketing his wand, Maddok pushed the small wooden door open with a grunt, emerging into a much wider area.

Most of the room was cast in shadows, the only light spraying from a small fire which had been lit in the hearth. Before the fireplace was a large chair, which was facing away from the new arrival. Maddok had barely taken two steps toward it when a deep voice called out.

"You're not quite late, Maddok."

Maddok fell to his knees at once, prostrating himself for his master, "I have come, as you ordered, my Lord."

"Indeed," said the deep voice. It sounded amused as it continued, "I understand that being early is new for you. My other servants seem to believe you have a tendency to be late." The voice became harsh, "Under no circumstance are you to disappoint me, Maddok. You know what happened to Rowles!"

Maddok was shaking, "I w-will not disappoint you, my Lord. I s-swear it."

"Good," said the deep voice, suddenly calm again, "I have a task for you. You will be placed in charge of several of the others for the duration of this task, as I have no doubt that it will be extremely difficult. You may choose your partners."

"Th-thank you, my Lord," Maddok gasped, "I am t-truly honoured."

"As for your task," his master continued, "You are to find and kill Harry Potter."

Despite himself, Maddok's breath caught in his throat, and he looked up from his place on the floor, "M-my Lord, if I may be so bold, Potter defeated Lord Voldemort himself. I-it will be nearly impossible to defeat him."

"Do you question me, Maddok?!" roared the voice, terrible rage emanating from it. Maddok shrunk back as a shadowed, heavily cloaked figure stood from the chair, holding something aloft in his hand. Maddok gasped as he realised it was the fabled Elder Wand. His master was the owner of the Deathstick.

"Potter had power that Voldemort knew not," the heavily cloaked said softly, "But I am now the owner of that power." He glanced at his servant and Maddok was terrified to see the firelight reflecting of red eyes. "Go now Maddok, and never question my power, or the power of my enemies again."

Head bowed, Maddok inched his way toward the trapdoor. He managed to climb through it without so much as glancing at his master again. Once clear of the room, he fled, with the image of two red eyes imprinted in his memories, and cruel laughter ringing in his ears.

**Rewritten due to some constructive criticism**** from some helpful readers. It's still not perfect, but I think it's better than before. Thanks guys. **

**Red.**


	6. The Stolen Hallow

**Chapter 5**

**The Stolen Hallow**

It was breakfast the next morning when they first showed up. Ron was arguing with Harry about Chudley's chances at winning the Cup this year, with everyone else watching them. With the end of the war, the Quidditch tournaments would be starting up any week now, and Ron was certain that the Canons were in the running for a win.

"Well, just think about it," he said earnestly, "Members of other teams will be gone, you know, with all the rubbish Umbridge did to the Muggle-borns last year and all the murders."

"Ron!" Hermione said sharply.

He held up his hands defensively, "I just meant that the other teams have lost most of their better players. Let's face it; Puddlemere United don't stand a chance since they lost that seeker of theirs, Michael Herving."

"It wouldn't matter if the other teams had to get entirely new squads," Harry objected, "The Canons couldn't win against a team of juniors on practice brooms." Ron scowled fiercely, but they were both startled when Mrs. Weasley, who had been standing alone at the window, swore with such ferocity that even Ron looked shocked. And not a little bit awed.

"They're back again," she screeched, unaware of the stares she had drawn "I warned them all to stay away. But do they listen; no, no of course not. All that matters to these fools is getting their story on the front page." At her words, Harry felt his heart sink. He pushed back his chair and hurried to stand behind the head of the Weasley household. He peered out and was dismayed by what he saw.

There, crouching in the garden, a wizard was sitting watching the back door, a large camera clutched in his bony hands. And he was not alone. Straining his eyes, Harry caught a glimpse of a small beetle perched on the photographer's shoulder. Ordinarily he would have thought nothing of the bug apparently just resting on the wizard's cloak. But experience with this bug in particular had made him extra cautious in these situations.

Harry had been wondering when this would happen. There had been no doubt in his mind, that from the moment he had defeated Voldemort, for the second time no less, his fame would multiply a hundredfold. It had only been a matter of time before the reporters began to show up on the Burrow's front step. And then the questions would begin, and the peace he had fought so hard for, would be shattered.

"When did the first one appear?" he said softly.

"They started showing up a week ago," Mrs. Weasley said, glaring furiously out the window, "They were asking about you. I heard Minerva had banned them from entering the Hogwarts grounds while repairs and burials were under way." She frowned at the mention of burials, but otherwise didn't comment.

Harry felt a flash of gratitude toward McGonagall for her actions, and then remembered ashamedly how he had disrespected her in his last couple of days at the castle. He would have to apologise the next time he saw her.

Harry glanced through the curtains again to see the photographer shift impatiently in the flowerbeds. Biting his lip in thought, he turned to the table where everyone was looking at him. Ron and Hermione were watching him anxiously, Ginny, Bill and Charlie were staring searchingly, and everyone else was just looking curiously. He nodded at Ron and Hermione, who quickly excused themselves and followed him as he marched from the room.

"Those bloody reporters-" Ron began, but was cut off as Hermione cuffed him over the head.

"How many times have I told you to watch your language?" she scolded as he threw up his arms in protest. Harry chuckled at his friends' antics, but speedily adopted a serious tone as they both turned their glares on him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were stopped as a bright flash suddenly lit up the room, blinding them. Harry gave a shout and pulled off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with one hand. With the other he reached for his wand. He groaned when he realised that he had left it lying on the bedside table upstairs, thinking he wouldn't need to be armed at breakfast of all places. Apparently he was wrong.

The bright spots on his eyes began to fade, leaving the room in a dull blur. He shoved his glasses back onto his face, and the room came completely into focus. Ron and Hermione were holding each other steady, each shaking their heads to rid their vision of the last bright spots clouding their own eyes. Ron murmured something that Harry didn't catch, but Hermione nodded, a flustered look appearing on her face as Ron released her.

"Somehow, Hermione, I think those reporters are more than deserving of Ron's abuse," Harry said grimly, blinking and pointing out the window by the front door. A wizard was running out the front gate, a large flash bulb attached to the top of the camera tucked under one arm. Hermione looked troubled by his remark, but nodded when Harry continued to stare at her.

"We'll have to do something about them, everyone needs privacy," Ron muttered. He opened his mouth to mutter what promised to be some choice words, but was interrupted when Mr. Weasley burst into the room, four envelopes clasped in his hands.

"Molly told me to give these to you," he explained, "I think that Hogwarts is opening early this year due to the, ah, disorder during that last year." He thrust a letter into each of their hands before hurrying off with the fourth, no doubt looking for Ginny. Harry carried his own over to where the light was streaming through the window, making sure that he was well-hidden in shadows, before examining the contents of the envelope addressed to him.

The Hogwarts letter was slightly different this year, with an explanation that the school year would begin on August the first due to fact that 'the handling of Hogwarts over the past term had been marred by events beyond the control of the professors'. Harry snorted at the understatement in the message. The book list consisted of _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 7) by Miranda Goshawk_, _Charming Beyond Belief by Ellen Amabel_ and _Complex Defence Arts by Matthew Guarth._

And there was another smaller surprise in store; a familiar badge fell into Harry's hand, with the insignia of the Gryffindor Quidditch team Captain engraved into it. He grinned when he heard Hermione's squeal of pleasure, looking over to see a small badge with the capital letter 'H' cut into its silver surface. Ron was staring at the badge that gave him the authority of the Headboy with something between disbelief and wonder, almost mirroring himself three years previously when he became the Prefect.

Hermione beamed at Ron, "Ron, I'm Headgirl, Mum is going to be so pleased. I was a Prefect and Head of school. I mean, can you believe it?" Harry very much wanted to say yes, but knew from experience that some things were better left unsaid.

"What's Mum going to say?" Ron said wonderingly. The last time he got a badge he had been given a brand new broomstick, so he would no doubt be excited by the thought of another reward for his efforts.

"Congratulations, to you both," Harry said heartily, clapping his friends on the shoulder. They both cast him a wary glance but saw genuine warmth in his eyes. Harry wasn't entirely surprised by their reaction. He himself had reacted rather badly at the start of their fifth year when the other two had become Prefects and he had remained a normal student. But this year he was happy to let the opportunity at a position of responsibility go. Even if his father had been a Headboy, Harry was going to have enough people treating him differently from the rest of the students in his year anyway.

"Well we're going to have to visit Diagon Alley," Harry said, glancing back at the list in his hand, "And I need a new cauldron and potions ingredients anyway; I got rid of my last one before we, well, you know …" He broke off awkwardly, not really wanting to bring the past year into focus.

It was as if Hermione could sense his mood, as she hurriedly changed the subject, "That's wonderful. I've been needing to go to the Alley myself to pick up some things at Flourish and Blotts."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, and didn't see the bemused glance that passed between Harry and Ron. As if she needed more books. Then, without a word to the two of them, she strode from the room. Ron grimaced and followed her back into the now almost empty kitchen. Harry took one more careful look out the front window before joining them in the other room.

Mrs. Weasley was doing the washing up at the sink. Or rather, she had her wand pointed at the basin and was talking casually to Hermione's mother. But every now and then she would peek through the curtains and glare at the sight of the wizard sitting in her garden with a large black camera, invading her family's privacy and at the same time crushing her precious flowers.

Everyone else seemed to have disappeared. Hermione had cornered Ginny and was speaking in earnest to her. Ron was standing right next to them, but once or twice he shook his head in intense disagreement at what Hermione was saying, before looking at Harry guiltily. His sister seemed to be on her brother's side for once, as she was rapidly shaking her head. Finally Ginny seemed to give in to Hermione's demands and bounded off for the stairs. Ron gave Hermione a very black look as the two of them approached Harry.

"Ginny will be joining us this afternoon in Diagon Alley," the bushy haired witch said, giving Ron a look that shouted disapproval, "And I'm hoping that we could convince Neville and Luna to come along as well." She glanced furtively at Harry, as if waiting for the inevitable explosion.

Harry frowned. As much as he hated Hermione's nasty habit of being a bit nosy where his personal affairs were concerned, he couldn't help but feel that maybe this time, he might try and work with her. With a monumental effort, he let the grimace slide from his face, "What time do you want to be there?"

Hermione's delighted smile could have cheered the saddest of souls, "I was hoping that we could go just after lunch. It won't take long to contact Luna and Neville; I'll just use the Floo to call them up." She hurried from the room, looking as though Christmas had come early. Ron rolled his eyes and muttered what sounded suspiciously like, 'She's absolutely mental'.

A loud screech made the two men look up, startled. Mrs. Weasley was bearing down on them, her eyes fixed on her youngest son's open palm. Moment's later, her suspicions seemed to be confirmed, for she looked at Ron with something resembling immense pride. And suddenly, she had him wrapped in a gigantic bearhug, tears streaming down her face. Ron looked positively terrified, giving her a little pat on the back in what Harry assumed was meant to be a calming gesture.

"First a Prefect and now a Headboy," the witch sobbed, finally releasing Ron from her grip, "You've made me a very proud witch today Ronald Weasley." Ron still looked a bit worried; his fist was closing slowly over the small badge, and he was turning a very bright shade of red. It was at that moment that Bill, Charlie and Fleur entered the room, and there was another round of congratulations that left Ron looking very uncomfortable. The two eldest Weasleys had stopped giving Harry death stares since he had decided to treat Ginny better, but their expressions still couldn't be called friendly.

It took Ron several minutes to escape the men holding out hands to shake, and the women swooping down to give him a congratulatory kiss on the cheeks. By the time he managed to make his way to Harry, who was standing by the stairs, he had a sour look plastered across his features and only grunted at Harry's bemused look. He hurriedly shoved the Headboy badge into the depths of his pockets, obviously hoping to avoid more attention.

"You'd think Bill never made it to be Headboy," he whispered to Harry, a watchful gleam in his eye as he looked at the people gathered across the room. Harry almost laughed aloud at his friend's antics; two years ago Ron would have given almost anything to be in the limelight like this. Now he was shying away from it all, as if he wanted nothing to do with it. If Harry hadn't seen it himself, he never would have believed it.

"Come on," he said, "We'd better get upstairs and change. If Hermione finds us dressed as we are when she's ready to go, she'll probably charm our clothes to change for us." Ron was only too happy for the excuse himself from the room and hurried upstairs, with Harry only a few steps behind. He was looking forward to seeing Neville and Luna again, and there was something else he needed to get from Diagon Alley that he hadn't mentioned to the others. The afternoon was promising to be an eventful one.

------------------

To say Diagon Alley was crowded would be an understatement. The magical shopping venue in London's heart was overflowing with wizards and witches of every kind. Foreigners were gathered there in the hundreds, nearly all of them staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Most, if not all of them were gathered in Britain to fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters in the recent war. Others raced up and down the narrow street, plowing through the throng, rushing in and out of the recently re-opened stores. Renovations were going on everywhere, with most of the store-owners who had been ruined by the war hurrying to beat the new competition.

Although Hermione had protested at first, Harry had come dressed in a long black cloak with the hood pulled low over his bright, emerald colored eyes. He was not sure he could stand the awed stares of the people of the magic world so soon after he had almost lost everything. This way he could move freely without having to endure the pointing fingers. Today he would not be the Boy Who Lived, but Harry.

His fears proved to be well founded. They had not gone twenty feet before they saw a large stack of copies of the Daily Prophet, with a small wizard wearing a flowing green cloak selling them for three knuts each. Harry remembered them costing seven knuts before the war, and abruptly realised that prices must have dropped during the fight with Voldemort. Ron stepped over to the wizard, and seconds later, he was back, the newspaper clutched in his hands. There was a small smile playing on his lips as his best friend snatched it out of his hand. Harry was greeted by his own scowling face standing in the Weasley's living room, above which the words, 'The Boy Who Won,' were printed in large black letters. In the corner of the picture, Ron seemed to be trying to sidle into the shot, but a hand which Harry guessed was Hermione's was holding him back.

"Of course, you're not just the Boy Who Lived anymore," Ron said to him quietly as they strode down the crowded avenue, "You just beat the most powerful wizard of our time and probably most of history, Harry. You had stares before, but now people really _will_ be asking for your autograph." The other three both gave him withering looks and he fell silent.

Harry's eyes scanned the article, at the same time reading it out loud to his friends. It described the Battle of Hogwarts and how Harry had been thought dead before rising to defeat Voldemort. It also stated that he was now staying at the Weasley's, but that there was speculation about where he would go when his welcome there ran out. But to Harry's immense relief, there was no mention of the Elder Wand or the Deathly Hallows. If either of those names had come up it could have meant a lot of trouble for him; no doubt a lot of wizards would be willing to try to steal something as precious as an unbeatable Wand.

Hermione had arranged to meet Neville and Luna at Flourish and Blotts before spending the rest of the afternoon with them back in Diagon Alley buying the rest of their school supplies. But before that, the other four had some business to attend to at Gringotts.

Towers of scaffolding had been erected around the front of the goblin bank. A makeshift canopy had been temporarily hung over the gaping hole in the roof, allowing business to continue as normal in the bank. Hundreds of goblin workers were crawling among the frameworks of the huge white building, hauling blacks of marble, chipping at the stone of the building, studying blueprints and plans of the elaborate bank.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny walked through the arch where the front door should be. All but Ginny were regarded with cold glares and dark looks. And no wonder, Harry thought. The last time he and his other two friends had come through this hall, it had been on the spiked back of a blind dragon, and they had dealt extensive damage to the premises. A goblin's revenge was said to be truly terrible, and Harry had no wish to face the wrath of an entire building full of the creatures.

The entrance hall of Gringotts was not as full of activity as it once was. Only a few desks held the scales which the goblins used to weigh the value of precious stones and other items. Griphook was attending a veiled witch at one of the desks, and Harry had a very strong urge to curse the miserable beast into oblivion, goblin revenge or no. Only with the greatest restraint did he manage to loosen his grip on the handle of his wand.

The goblin at the head desk peered up at them through sickle shaped spectacles as they approached, and his lips drew back into what could almost be called a snarl. Harry almost gasped when he recognized him; it was Bogrod, the goblin he had put under the Imperious Curse earlier that year when they stole Hufflepuff's cup from the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Attempting not to see the murderous glances directed at them by more than a hundred goblins, Harry marched up to the goblin's desk. He pulled his hood down as he looked up at the goblin and lowered his voice when he spoke; he had no desire to be identified as the savior of the wizarding world and the defeater of Voldemort by the twenty or so other magic folk wandering the hall.

"I'm Harry James Potter and I've come to make a withdrawal," he said formally. The goblin held out his clawed hand impatiently, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Key please," Bogrod said icily, sounding as if it pained him to make it a request. Harry dug through his pockets, searching relentlessly for the key to his vault with one hand. The other was beneath his cloak, tightly gripping the handle of his wand. Two minutes and three frustrated coughs later, he was sliding a small golden key across the glass desk, making an infuriating scratching sound as it went.

The goblin looked less than pleased.

They were led off the main chamber by a smaller goblin by the name of Emrad. The normal carts that led down to the vaults were currently unavailable for use because of the massive damage to the bank's underground rail system. Instead, temporary platforms had been installed by the Ministry, which used Levitation magic to float to the vaults the controller chose.

The platforms were made of smooth stone. They were perfectly round with sturdy rails that were as high as Harry's waist surrounding them, with twin gates directly opposite each other. As they boarded one of the hovering platforms, Harry became quite nervous when he saw a frightening gleam in the corner of the goblin's eye. He quickly grabbed onto the railing.

"Hold on tight," he muttered to Ginny as she came to stand by him. She threw him a rebellious look, but as he turned away, he saw her latch her hands around the railing in a death grip. Hidden from her eyes, Harry grinned. Ron and Hermione were still standing in the centre of the stone circle, but rather than give them a warning, he decided to take it as an opportunity to further mend his friendship with the youngest Weasley.

"Let's watch the show," he whispered in Ginny's ear. She made no real reaction, but Harry swore the corners of her mouth twitched slightly. The tension between them was slowly draining away.

The trip down to the vaults was just like he thought; amusing, but at the same time, frightening. A quick look over the side made even Harry's stomach lurch; the stone floor that they had run along on their last visit here was invisible, hidden by the perpetual darkness of the underground bank. In the distance the sound of thousands of hammers echoed eerily, accompanied by the sound of splashing water.

The platform moved at alarming speeds, and several times the platform jerked dangerously, throwing Ron and Hermione off their feet. It took two more falls before the couple saw the light and grasped the railing. Ginny was already leaning over the edge, her face a delicate shade of green.

"It's the magical properties of the stone Gringotts was built on," Emrad explained, as the platform jolted again, "It interferes with most kinds of human magic." But Harry thought he detected a hint of wicked glee in the chilling smile the goblin gave them.

When they did reach the vault, Hermione and Ron were the first off, followed by a pale faced Ginny. Harry climbed onto the raised area in front of his vault last, with Emrad bringing up the rear.

"Remind me never to come on one of these bloody things again," Ron groaned, leaning against a wall and holding his stomach. For once, Hermione didn't reprimand him for his language, although her lips did visibly thin.

The door to Harry's vault was made of an odd, seamless stone. It was jet black, yet shone with an unnaturally bright luster. Carvings ran up and down the sides of the ten foot door, each of a different kind of magical creature. There was everything from a hippogriff and a dragon at the top to a niffler and a kneazle at the bottom. The lock also appeared to have been changed. Where once there had just been a slot for the key, there was now a hole about the size and shape of his hand in the centre.

Emrad slipped the key into the lock, before stepping back, "Mr. Potter, if you would put your hand into the slot." Harry watched apprehensively as he slid his hand into the space reserved for him alone. Seconds later he pulled it back with muttered oath. A single drop of blood ran down from the point of his finger where the skin had been pierced. He stared at the goblin, who shrugged.

"New security measures," Emrad said. Seeing Harry's incredulous stare, the goblin's eyes flashed, "It was necessary after we … _discovered_ … that our current security wasn't sufficient to keep out all thieves." Harry hurriedly turned back to the door to his vault as it emitted a quiet hiss. Steam was shooting out from a line that was appearing down the centre of the previously faultless stone. A few seconds later the hissing of the steam was gone, as the ancient hinges groaned open.

Piles of golden galleons, silver sickles and bronze knuts greeted them as they entered the extensive vault. Precious stones were encased in glass boxes, with locks made of pure gold. Other boxes contained deeds and business contracts stamped with the seal of the Potter House. Everything seemed extremely valuable.

Striding toward a small stack of galleons, Harry tried not to notice the impressed looks the other three were throwing around the vault. He was particularly worried about Ron and Ginny's reactions. The Weasleys were extremely kind, but were also tremendously poor. Their family vault never contained more than a few galleons at a time. But Harry's fears proved unfounded. The two of them were looking around in awe, amazed by the sight of so much wealth.

Not wanting to prolong the stay, Harry scooped up several piles of galleons and tossed them in the sack that he had gotten off Bogrod at the front desk. He turned back toward the door, but something caught his eye. Walking over to a small desk in the corner of the vaults, he examined the small object lying atop it. It was a silver ring, with an ornate 'P' carved into the surface of a plate that sat on the top. Not understanding how he knew, Harry abruptly realised that this must be the seal of the Potter house. He picked up the ring and carefully slipped it into his shirt pocket.

"Let's go," he said to the others. Together, the four of them and Emrad climbed back onto the platform, this time with Ron and Hermione both holding the railing. Ginny and Harry shared a small smirk as the platform sped off in the direction of the Weasley vault.

Ten minutes later, they were all strolling along in the open air of Diagon Alley, shielding their eyes from the glare of the sunlight, so bright after the dark tunnels of the Gringotts vaults. It was a gasp from Harry's right that drew his attention. He glanced around and saw a young boy of about five years staring at him in something between shock and awe. Too late, Harry realised that the hood of his cloak had fallen off in the high speed winds that streamed past the floating platforms of the goblin bank. Cursing, he quickly pulled the hood back up. But the damage had been done.

Whispers and stares followed them as they approached Flourish and Blotts, reminding Harry uncomfortably of his first and fifth years at Hogwarts. On both of those occasions he had been alienated from the rest of the student body, first by his fame, and then by the Ministry's desire to label him as a madman. Having to feel so separate was not something he enjoyed, and there was a growing bud of anger in him when they reached the bookshop with a growing group of wizards and witches trailing behind.

Neville and Luna were already inside. The Gryffindor was examining the books in the aisle marked 'Magical Flora and Herbs', with Luna leaning on his arm. Despite his heavy involvement in the battle, Neville had come out rather well. The only sign that he had been involved was a long, white scar running from his forehead back into his dark hair, visible now that his bandages had been removed. Luna seemed a little worse for wear; her blue, orb-like eyes were shadowed, with no trace of her normally dreamy gaze. Her dirty blonde hair was slightly tangled, slowly growing back from where it had been hacked off at the shoulder during her months of captivity.

Neville approached Harry with a warm smile and an outstretched hand, "It's so good to see you, Harry."

Harry gripped the round faced man's hand firmly, "It's great to see you again too Neville. And you too Luna." Neville and Luna beamed as they were greeted by their old friends. Ginny was watching Luna with a slightly worried frown, obviously wondering about the state of her oldest friend.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked tentatively, looking Luna over as if to search for further signs of ailments.

Luna smiled faintly, "I've been feeling a little off color for a few days now. Don't worry, I'll be fine soon." For some reason, this mention of her illness earned her a warning glance from Neville, which she returned challengingly. Eventually the Gryffindor just sighed and shook his head.

"You seem to be attracting quite a crowd Harry," he said, nodding toward the increasingly large mob of wizards and witches gathered out the front of Flourish and Blotts. Harry grimaced when he saw people lifting up several bulky cameras and take a quick picture of him. Would it never end?

Neville grinned at the look on Harry's face, "That bad, huh? Me and Gran have been working on restoring the house for a few days. The Death Eaters really took the place apart when they went after her. We've restored most of the bedrooms and the kitchens, but it will still take a while before we get around to repairing the greenhouses. Gran'll be staying at her friend's place while I'm at Hogwarts."

"So you're returning as well?" Hermione asked in surprise, "To Hogwarts I mean."

"Well you could hardly say we learned much last year," Neville said wryly, "The so-called 'professors' were teaching how to torture and slaughter, hardly a constructive form of education."

They wandered around the shop for a while, picking up the things that they needed. Harry picked up a new copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ with a grimace; the last one he had owned had caused him to cheat in Potions class and a spell written in the margins had nearly killed Draco Malfoy. After that time, all thoughts of retrieving the Half-Blood Prince's copy had been driven from his mind, and now there would be no opportunity to do so again. All traces of Snape's old Potions text book had been destroyed by a blast of Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement.

The crowd gathered outside was gradually becoming a little braver. Several Harry was distracted by a tugging on his sleeve to see a small child staring at him in wonder, before holding out a copy of the Daily Prophet and timidly asking for his autograph. In the first case he came very close to refusing, but instead sighed and signed his signature. He was even more embarrassed when he tried to pay the man at the desk, but the man excitedly shouted that Harry Potter and his friend's books were free of charge. He glared at Ron when he saw his friend giving him a look that said 'I told you so'.

They left Flourish and Blotts with the carry bags they had brought heavy from their newly acquired loads. The crowd parted before Harry and his friends, and Harry was uncomfortably aware of the stares he was drawing. From there the group split in two, with Luna, Hermione and Ginny heading off in the direction of Madam Malkin's, and the three men moving off toward Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ginny had looked like she wanted to join the men, but had relented enough to join the other witches on their trip to the robe shop.

Harry felt slightly out of place with younger witches and wizards running around the shop. And yet he couldn't help glancing around the store with a feeling of affection; Quidditch was part of him, and no amount of time would change that particular piece of his soul. Different models of broomsticks were stacked on the shelves, with every make and brand from Cleansweep, to Nimbus, to Firebolt. The sight of the Firebolts brought a twinge of sadness to Harry's stomach. There were hundreds of tins of broom polish and several stacks of broom care kits.

"What do you reckon the fuss is about?" Ron whispered, pointing to a large group of people gathered towards the back of the store. They were packed so tightly together that Harry couldn't see what they were all staring at. He didn't answer Ron, and the three of them slowly made their way forward to see what the stir was about. Harry heard an audible intake of breath as Ron saw what lay before the crowd. He was surprised that _he_ wasn't the centre of attention. And then he saw what the crowd was looking at, and he knew.

A broomstick was raised on a small podium. Its handle was a long and beautifully polished black wood, with the twigs in the tail all neatly groomed. A price tag was hanging from the shaft of the broom, with an insanely large number of galleons written on it. And on the same tag was a single word; _Cloudstrike_.

Harry stared at it longingly. A drop of drool was sliding from Ron's mouth, and even Neville had a look of pure awe on his face.

Harry finally spoke, "Well, it had better be worth the price."

A small wizard who couldn't have been half Harry's height, or even half his age, turned and gave him a glare, "Are you daft? The Cloudstrike is supposed to have four _times_ the speed and handling of the Firebolt. The Nimbus brand isn't even in the same league as this broom. All the international teams have been fighting over contracts with the makers." And then the boy caught sight of the lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, and after a second's hesitation he started tugging on the sleeve of a man Harry had no doubt was his older brother.

Harry grimaced and hurriedly turned and headed for the door, pulling a reluctant Ron and Neville with him. He would have loved to stay and ogle the Cloudstrike for a bit longer, but he had no desire to cause another scene like the one at Flourish and Blotts.

They had gotten most of the things they needed when Harry saw the sign for Eeylops' Owl Emporium. He felt a pang of loss and anger when he remembered Hedwig, and the jet of green light that had killed his one constant companion. He hesitated, but finally made his decision and strode into the barn-sized shop. The place reeked with the odor of bird droppings and straw. Perched upon rows on rows of metal roads in the ceiling, hundreds of owls were sleeping with their heads hidden under their wings. Behind a desk, a small wizard wearing an apron and sweating profusely was sweeping the wooden floors below.

"Excuse me," Harry called, trying to lower his voice so as not to wake up the many birds snoring away above his head. The man looked up at him, signaled Harry to wait a moment and propped his broom against his desk before hurrying out a small door. He was back mere seconds later, with his hands freshly washed and a wand sticking out of one of the apron's many pockets.

"What is it I can do for you good sir?" The man, who Harry assumed was Eeylop himself, said cheerfully, "We've got everything here at Eeylops'. We have barn owls, tawny owls, screech owls, snowy owls. We can get you an owl that can find any house in the world, or we can get you an owl trained to take your message directly to the recipient, no matter where they are. We have it all."

Harry considered getting another snowy like Hedwig, but decided against it, instead saying, "Are any of these owls experienced? Have any of them had any previous flights?"

Eeylop beamed, "I told you sir, we have everything here at the Owl Emporium. If you would follow me out the back." Leaving Ron and Neville to wander around the seemingly endless rows of owls, Eeylop and Harry proceeded through a small door at the back of the huge hall. Harry glanced around as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. It was similar to the other room, in that it had owls perched on rods in the rafters. But there was a slight difference. Where the other room had had owls of all shapes and sizes, these owls had an air of experience around them. Most of them were quite large, with the smallest being slightly larger than Pigwidgeon, but even those had a feeling of wisdom radiating out from them.

"The finest owls from all around," Eeylop said proudly, affectionately holding out a treat to a treat to a large tawny owl who took it with surprising dignity for an owl, "And each of them has their own history. Take this one," he pointed at a large screech owl, "he once chased a fellow who intended harm to the owl's master away. And this one," a small snowy owl, "he once foiled an attempted theft by carrying the jewels the crook wanted up into the rafters of the house." Eeylop went on for a few minutes, and Harry listened with mild interest. All he really wanted was an owl that could deliver his mail quickly and efficiently.

He finally decided on a medium sized tawny owl that had a fine pattern of brown and gold feathers on its wings. Upon pointing it out to the shop owner, Eeylop had smiled widely, "A fine choice good sir. That fellow has been here for a while now. He once saved his master's life by delivering a message to St. Mungo's within an hour of being given it. I'm sure you'll find he's one of the fastest mail owls that we've got here."

Harry nodded, "What's his name?"

And that was how Harry found himself walking back down Diagon Alley at dusk with a cage containing a tawny owl named Noctus in one hand, and his school supplies in the other. They entered the Leaky Cauldron to find the girls already seated at one of the tables. Ron pulled up a chair next to Hermione, and Neville sat down between Luna and Ginny. Harry almost sat down between Ginny and Hermione, but the feelings there were still sensitive, so he quietly asked Ron to move over, and sat down between him and Luna. Ginny's face was unreadable, but Harry thought he saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes.

The food was good, and the drink was better. The adults ordered Firewhiskeys, leaving Luna and Ginny to drink some Butterbeer. The two girls had birthdays in August, when they would officially come of age in the wizarding world. They looked slightly jealous of the others, but otherwise didn't comment.

"There's a new brand of broom come out," Ron told Hermione in an earnest voice, "It's called the Cloudstrike. It's got four times the speed and handling of the Firebolt. _Four times_, Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Honestly Ron, there's more important things out there than Quidditch and the newest brand of brooms!" She went back to her meal, but Harry noticed there was a look of longing in Ginny's eyes, as if she wished she hadn't been persuaded by Hermione to go and buy new robes over ogling a brand new broom model.

Ron began muttering darkly at Hermione's simple dismissal of something so important to him, yet Harry noticed that neither Neville nor Luna had joined in the conversation much. Turning to look at them, he saw Neville murmuring something in her ear, and Luna nodding reluctantly. Harry caught her eye, but she just shook her head as if to say it was nothing.

As he went back to his meal, an odd type of fish that looked suspiciously like one of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts, he saw something shift in the corner of his eye. He glanced across the room and saw a hooded man staring at him. For A shiver of unease ran down his back. This fellow wasn't like the hundreds of other people who had gawked at Harry for most of the day. His eyes weren't visible in the darkness beneath his cowl, but Harry could feel the man's piercing gaze as much as he could feel the soft comfort of the Leaky Cauldron. It was then that Harry realised something else. Emblazoned on the man's cloak, directly above his heart, a small red insignia stood out from the field of black. Harry couldn't quite make it out, but there was something horribly familiar about it. The feeling of unease grew.

Pretending that nothing was out of the ordinary, he picked up his cutlery, inconspicuously nudging his friend in the ribs, "Ron, look at that man in the corner."

The Weasley seemed to recognize Harry's urgent tone. He put down his own fork, and his hand crept slowly beneath the table towards his pocket, where it would no doubt pick up the wand sitting there. Feigning casualness, Ron stretched, and his eyes darted in the direction of the corner Harry had seen the hooded man in. The wary look on his face quickly became confusion, which eventually turned into annoyance.

"What are you on about Harry?" he said angrily, "You scared me half to death."

Harry spun in his seat. Where the man had been sitting mere moments before, there was nothing but an empty chair. Lost for words, he looked back at Ron and was somewhat annoyed to find that both he and Hermione were conversing in whispers, occasionally throwing him a worried look. Snatches of their conversation reached him, with the words 'lake' and 'covered in blood' standing out. It infuriated him that they could still treat him like this, with so little faith.

He leaned over to them, whispering furiously, "Look, I didn't imagine the man by the lake, and there really was a man standing in that corner just a few seconds ago. You have to believe me. I'm not lying; why would I?"

Ron gave a nervous laugh, "Come on Harry, we believe you." Hermione gave Harry a very piercing look before going back to her own meal. Harry didn't mention the cloaked figure again, although once or twice he cast a furtive look at the corner, as if hoping the man would magically reappear.

It was only when Ron downed his seventh mug of Firewhiskey and began a warbling rendition of the Weird Sisters that the other five seemed to come to their senses and decided take him home. Harry didn't have a clue how they ever managed to maneuver Ron through the Floo passages, especially with the boisterous Weasley continually patting Hermione on the back and talking about married life with a hundred children. Hermione's cheeks were tinged a bright pink as she supported Ron up the stairs of the Burrow to his room, but there was a firm set to her jaw, and a frightening glint in her eye. Mrs. Weasley was watching with dark disapproval, and she glared at Ginny when the youngest Weasley couldn't seem to stop giggling at the sight of her drunken brother.

Harry fell asleep with Ron's inebriated ramblings echoing in his ears. But his dreams were far from peaceful. He woke up several times in a cold sweat, unable to block the image of a hooded figure and a familiar symbol from his sleeping mind.

------------------

The weeks until they had to return to Hogwarts passed by at the speed of a crawling Flobberworm. Harry was slightly annoyed by the fact that it was the reporters waiting on the Burrow's eaves that prevented him going outside and enjoying the summer warmth with the others. There were good times as well as bad of course. Mr. Weasley came home one night with brilliant news; Kingsley had given him a raise of ten galleons. As a celebration, he had bought tickets for them to the first Quidditch match of the new season. The game was close, with the Holyhead Harpies beating the Chudley Canons by only thirty points. Ron hadn't spoken to Ginny for a week afterwards.

And that was how Harry found himself being woken on the thirty first of July by Ron shouting at him that he was eighteen. Harry groaned and rolled over, trying very hard to go back to the sleep that was even now slipping away from him. He finally gave it up as a bad job and instead threw his pillow at his best friend, muttering mutinously about idiots who had no right to wake their friends up, even if it was said friend's birthday.

He eventually managed to pull on some clothes and went down to breakfast. The Grangers and Weasleys were already all seated at the table, with what could only be described as a feast prepared on the table. Mrs. Weasley jumped up as soon as Harry entered the room, and within moments he was engulfed in a constricting hug.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley," he managed to gasp out once she finally released him. The old witch smiled warmly and invited him to take a seat. Everyone else offered their own congratulations, with Bill and Charlie giving Harry somewhat frosty smiles before going back to their breakfast. Andromeda Tonks showed up with a very bouncy Teddy, whose hair was a vivid emerald colour, and even Percy had come in from London to wish Harry a happy birthday.

"The Minister has asked me to pass on his congratulations," the third Weasley said pompously, "And I must wish you the very best for your year ahead." Harry had a difficult time keeping a straight face at the seriousness of Percy's facial expression. Despite the fact that he had made up with his family, he was still very ambitious on the inside.

Mrs. Weasley had, as usual, outdone herself. Plates laden with bacon, eggs, pancakes, pikelets and muffins covered every inch of the table, and everyone enjoyed a hearty feast. Despite the memories that would haunt him upon his return to the castle, Harry was looking forward to the new term at Hogwarts. It would give him an escape from the crowds of reporters and fans, and it would help take his mind off the future, which was something he seemed to worry about more often than he remembered.

"I've heard that they're introducing some new courses at Hogwarts this year," Mr. Weasley said conversationally as he carved up an excessively large piece of pork, "Dolewhin told me that the education department Heads have been in a flurry trying to sort it all out. Dolores Umbridge is still causing trouble where learning is concerned, I'm afraid."

"Bloody toad," Ron muttered, earning him a halfhearted slap from Hermione. Harry silently agreed with him. He made no outward reaction, but his grip on his cutlery tightened.

"What are the new courses, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, giving Hermione an approving look and Ron a dark one.

"Jerry wasn't exactly clear on that," Mr. Weasley replied, a smile playing on his lips, "But he did say, that apart from the 'toad's' interference, the decision to take the new courses caused a bit of dispute as high up as the wizards and witches in the Wizengamot."

"Percy, surely you've heard something about it," Ginny said, "I mean, with you working with the Minister and all." Everyone turned to him expectantly and Harry realised that the third Weasley hadn't spoken since his father first brought up the subject.

Percy cleared his throat, a rather uncomfortable look on his face, "Well, Minister Shacklebolt has indeed heard about these matters. There was a bit of opposition at first, but the Minister managed to smooth the situation over rather well. At least, the Wizengamot was appeased."

"Do you know what the courses are about?" Harry inquired.

Percy's evident unease grew, "Well I can't really reveal anything before the start of the term. It would be unfair to the other students and an abuse of my position." Seeing the scowls directed at him by the ones who would be attending school, he sighed, "It's only one more day of waiting, I'm sure the Headmistress will announce it tomorrow evening at the feast."

There was a round of grumbling, but everyone slowly broke off into their own conversations. The Grangers seemed a bit out of place amongst so many magic folk, but they seemed to get along well with both of the head Weasleys, who seemed to share a surprisingly similar outlook on a large number of things. Harry didn't fail to notice the furtive, hopeful looks that his two best friends were throwing between the two groups of parents.

After breakfast, Mr. Weasley had another announcement; he had managed to book a minor Quidditch pitch for the rest of the day. The Weasleys, the Grangers and Harry all went down to the outskirts of London where the pitch had been set up for their use. It was a full-size field, mostly used for practice by the national teams, meaning it would be like a real match. Another advantage was that the reporters had no idea where they were, so Harry could fly with the others without having to worry about a camera flashing in his face when he landed. And to Harry's surprise – and Ron's greatest delight – the Chudley Canons arrived just as they were leaving. The Canons seemed even more star struck by Harry, than Ron was by them. Regardless, the professional team was more than willing to give the excited Weasley a series of autographs.

They arrived back at the Burrow in the evening, utterly exhausted, but excitement still coursing through them. They were still talking about the events of the day when Mrs. Weasley ushered them all into the sitting room, where a large pile of presents awaited Harry. Mrs. Weasley settled down into a large armchair, pointing her wand at some knitting needles which flew into a flurry of movement. Mr. Weasley and the elder sons stood around the fireplace, and Ginny curled up on one end of the lounge, while Ron and Hermione to snuggle up to each other on the other end. So Harry was left to sit on the floor with his back to the fireplace, while people threw their presents to him.

The first gift, wrapped tightly in green cloth, was from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It was tied with a bright red ribbon, and inside was a box of Mrs. Weasley's home made fudge, as well as a small framed picture of Harry, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley family standing in front of the Burrow. The people in the photo waved furiously at him, and the smaller Harry had a wide smile on his face. The real Harry also smiled and thanked the Weasley family heads.

The next was a joint present from Ron and Hermione. He correctly guessed the large square shape to be a book, although the actually seemed to hold some interest for him for once; _An Auror's Training: Constant Vigilance in Diverse Situations by Hanley Stubbord_. Ron had apparently decided to be a bit more original, having got Harry a box of Honeyduke's chocolate and a new set of marble chess pieces. Harry had lost his old set a long time ago, and Ron no doubt wanted the chance to trounce him in another match. He grinned at his friends, who both gave him a warm smile.

Neville and Luna had sent him a set of wand care products, including a tin of polish and a cloth that removed any jinxes or curses that tried to tamper with the wand's power. Harry feigned shock and happiness when he received _A Guide To N.E.W.T_s from Percy. Charlie handed him a small box with a somewhat frightening smile, saying that it was from Bill too. Harry smiled weakly, but slipped the box into his pocket as soon as the Weasley's back was turned, resolving to open it later in the safety of Ron's room. He wasn't exactly surprised when there was no present from Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley was on the verge of shooing them all to bed when there came an odd thumping noise. Everyone sat deathly still. It seemed to be coming from the stairwell, and as the minutes passed, it sounded as if it was getting closer. Finally a shadow appeared at the top of the stairs, and the figure of George hobbled down the last few steps into the room. Harry had barely seen the remaining twin over the weeks, but he appeared to be in a worse condition than when Harry had spoken to him on his first few days back at the Burrow, if that was possible. His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was a sickly pale yellow colour.

Nobody moved for a second, and then George rasped quietly, "What? I'm not dead you know, even if I look it." Mrs. Weasley jumped out of her chair and wrapped her arms around George, being careful not to squeeze too tightly. He hadn't eaten much over the past few weeks, and was looking impossibly frail in his thinness.

"Oi, get off me mum," he managed to whisper indignantly, "There are people around."

He slowly made his way across the room towards Harry, a grubbily wrapped package in his outstretched hand, "I know it's not much, but it is your birthday, and _he_ wouldn't have wanted me to forget that."

"Thanks, George," Harry said appreciatively, taking the present from his old friend, "It means a lot, you know." George mumbled something incoherent before slumping into a seated position on the floor. The other Weasley men hurried forwards, but George tried to wave them off. To Harry's surprise, it was Percy who George let support him. Even though the third Weasley had healed the rift, he didn't realise they were this close.

"Well," George growled, "Are you going to open it or not?" Harry tore at the wrapping paper, although he thought he knew what the twin had got him. His assumptions were correct; inside was the silver Tricky Tracker, giving off a slight shine in the dim light. He gave George a grateful look, but the Weasley just waved him off.

"So what are your plans for the school year Harry?" George asked, genuine interest registering in his hollow eyes.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was drowned out by Mrs. Weasley, "Oh no. These children have to be up bright and early in the morning, and that means one thing; bed now!"

"Mum," Ron argued, "Me, Harry and Hermione are already adults. And Ginny is almost an adult anyway."

Mrs. Weasley didn't look like she was used to being crossed. She glared at her youngest son, "_Almost_ an adult, is _not_ an adult. Ginny, up to bed, now." Ginny gave her a rebellious look, but sullenly trudged from the room, she rounded on the other three, "And as long as you live in my house, you'll follow my rules; up to bed."

"Well it's not only _your_ house," Ron protested, "Dad owns it too, so he has some say." He ignored the murderous look his mother was giving him and turned to his father, "Tell her, Dad."

Mr. Weasley gave Ron a weary smile, "I think you had better listen to your mother on this one, Ron."

"Traitor," Ron muttered as he got to his feet with Hermione still in his arms. Harry followed them, gathering all of his presents up in his arms. The rest of the family said goodnight, and the trio made their weary way upstairs. Hermione bade them goodnight on the first floor, disappearing into the darkness of Ginny's room. Ron looked sorry to see her go, but continued upstairs with Harry in companionable silence. It was only when they reached the landing in front of Ron's room that Harry slapped his forehead.

"My wand," he exclaimed, "I must have left it downstairs." He left Ron standing on the steps of the Burrow, hurrying back the way he had come. But as he came to the last landing, he heard hushed voices echoing out of the sitting room. Wishing he had his invisibility cloak with him so he could get closer, he leant toward the corner without actually putting his head into the view of the people talking there.

"… wasn't just our Ministry that had problems with the courses." Harry recognized Percy's voice, now filled with a surprising amount of concern.

"And I can see why." Harry didn't need to look at Mrs. Weasley to know she was angry, "It's utter foolishness to even attempt to teach children such advanced magic." It dawned on Harry that they were talking about the new subjects at Hogwarts, and he strained his ears to catch every word.

"With the war and everything just over, the Minister thinks it would be better if the students are properly prepared in case such a situation ever arises again," Percy explained, "And it's also good preparation for any who want to go into Law enforcement positions later in life."

"But still, I wouldn't want any of _my _children-"

At that moment, Harry's luck ran out. The stair that he was leaning on creaked loudly, and all conversation stopped at once. Harry scrambled to his feet and walked into the room as casually as he could, acting as if he hadn't heard a word. All of the adults were glaring at him suspiciously, apart from George who was partially behind the others. He was grinning widely and giving Harry a silent thumbs up.

"I think I dropped my wand down here," he said in what he hoped was an innocent voice. The others just watched him disbelievingly as he bent over by the lounge and looked under. As he thought, his wand was lying there. He grabbed it up and strode from the room as fast as he could without breaking into a run. By the time he was back at Ron's landing, he was more than a little puffed.

"D'you find it?" Ron asked as Harry burst into the bedroom.

"Yeah, but listen to this." A frown appeared on Ron's face as Harry relayed what he had overheard.

"It sounds like even foreign Ministries have been disagreeing with this," Ron said, a thoughtful look on his face, "It must be a pretty big deal."

Harry nodded, "And don't forget what Percy said about the courses relating to Law enforcement positions. It might be a class on really advanced defensive magic, you know, that wears you out really quick." He was about to change into his pajamas when he felt the bulky shape of Bill and Charlie's present in his back pocket. He examined the box, turning it over in his fingers. He considered destroying it without opening it, but decided to give Ginny's brothers a chance. They _had_ been acting more like their usual selves over the past weeks. Still, there was no need to not take precautions.

He placed the box on Ron's desk and whipped out his wand. He motioned for Ron to stand behind him; he didn't really think whatever was in the box was dangerous, but if it was something like a prank, it wouldn't be fair for his friend to take the brunt of the joke for Harry. Ron seemed to understand, and backed up to the door. Turning back to the small gift, Harry aimed his wand at the lid of the box.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he muttered. The lid of the box lifted … and something indescribable shot out of the black space within. It was formless, constantly shifting. And Harry suddenly knew what it was, and he was afraid. He wanted to run, but for some reason he couldn't. He had no wish to see the form the Boggart would take, yet it was as if his feet were glued to the floor. It was taking much longer than usual to choose a form. His mouth fell open as the Boggart finally settled on a shape, and despite the anguished cry he let out, he couldn't look away.

His two greatest fears had become one. In seconds, the temperature in Ron's bedroom dropped from the comfortable warm of summer to an almost icy cold. On the floor in front of him, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were lying prone, terror written across their faces. And bending over each one was the shadowy form of a Dementor. Their hoods were drawn back, revealing their gaping mouths and eyeless faces, and they were leaning in toward their prey to deliver the Kiss that would suck out his friend's souls. Harry tried to raise his wand, to defend his friends, but it was as if he was suffocating. He could hear Ron, the real Ron, calling urgently to him, as if from a very great distance.

One by one, the Dementors put their gaping mouths on the lips of Harry's terrified friends and sucked their souls out through their mouths, leaving the victim's eyes lifeless and staring. Each time that one person's soul was sucked out, Harry let out a strangled sob. And when all three of his closest friends were done for, the Dementors turned toward him, their scabbed hands clawing. Harry almost offered himself to them, to escape the pain that was tearing at his chest.

They reached out and grabbed his shoulders … and suddenly the Dementors were retreating, being driven back by a silver Jack Russell Terrier. And Ron was grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him out of the way, a look of fury painted across his features. The Dementors and the prone forms of Harry's friends disappeared, replaced by a gigantic spider. But Ron didn't seem to be as affected by the sight of his greatest fear as he normally would. He roared, "Riddikulus!" and the Boggart was forced back into its formless state. With another spell, Ron pushed the shape shifter back into the box where it had come from, and slammed the lid shut.

Harry lay, panting and shivering on the bed. As in his previous encounters with Dementors, the experience had left him utterly drained of energy. He also realised that he was angry. Furious in fact. What right did Ginny have to force his greatest fear on him when he was least prepared for it? Despite the effort it took to stand, he somehow found his feet, at the same time, grabbing his wand from where he had dropped it. Ron was looking at him with honest worry. He rushed forward as Harry struggled to remain erect, much as the other Weasleys had for George earlier that same evening. Harry was thankful for his best mate's support, but waved him off firmly before trudging out the door.

Bill and Charlie were standing on the landing, smug smirks on their faces. "I think that'll teach you not to-" Charlie never got to finish his sentence, as he was blown off his feet by a Stunning spell. Bill didn't have time to reach for his wand as he too was knocked off his feet by a shouted "Stupefy!" The rest of the Weasleys, who had gathered on the stairs below, shouted in protest and alarm. Harry pushed roughly past them, ignoring them calling his name. Hermione caught his sleeve, but he pulled it away and hurried on. Within a few more seconds he had reached the bottom of the stairs, rushed out the front door and Disapparated with a loud _crack_. The last thing he saw was Ron and Hermione rushing out the front door towards him.

The graveyard of Godric's Hollow was eerily quiet. Light shone in the windows of the houses and hotels that lined the avenue, but to Harry they seemed dull and miserable rather than bright and cheery. The tombstones stuck up from the ground like broken teeth in the twilight. A light wind disturbed the dead leaves, swirling them around Harry's feet and wrapping his cloak around his hunched form.

He fell to his knees before the graves of his parents, his wand sliding out of his hand onto the soft earth of the burial ground. His glasses glistened in the light of the waning moon, it having been whole a few days previously. He reached out a hand and traced his fingers along the grooves of the curling writing engraved on the tombstones of Lily and James Potter. Anger surged through him at the thought of what Bill and Charlie had done to him, but there was also a great sadness. No matter how hard he tried, things never wanted to end the easy way.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, his hand outstretched against his parents' grave. The moon rose to the peak of the sky and began its slow descent before he shifted and put his back to the tombstone, feeling his eyes drifting closed.

_BOOM!_

Harry cursed and jumped to his feet, his eyes going wide as graves and tombstones around him exploded in flashes of green light. Straining his eyes to see into the shadows that engulfed the burial ground, he caught sight of several hooded figures standing in the darkness on the edges of his vision, jets of emerald green light shooting from wands and obliterating dozens of tombstones.

Harry gave a shout of anger as one of the blasts came perilously close to him, utterly destroying the grave next to his parents' final resting place. There was no uncertainty in his mind that he was the target of the vicious attack. No rogue wizard gang would bother to try and ambush a lone person of unknown value in the middle of one of England's most famous wizarding communities. No, he was the intended victim of this assault. But why?

There was no time to sit and wonder. Another blast of the Killing Curse swept past him, telling him something else; he wasn't going to be captured. The aim of these mysterious opponents was to kill him. So _Protego_ and Shield Charms weren't going to be much use in this situation.

He snatched his wand from the ground where he had dropped it hours ago, pointing at one of the moving shapes and roaring, "Stupefy!" The red light from the spell momentarily lit up the darkness of the night, and he counted that there were at least four of them as he dived behind a crumbling tombstone. Seconds later there was a shout of, "Behind the broken one! Avada Kedavra!" Harry leapt to his feet and sprinted for cover as the headstone he had been hiding behind was destroyed. He jumped behind another gravestone just as the ground behind him exploded in a spray of green light. He abruptly decided that since the rules appeared to have been completely ignored by those attacking him, then there was no reason for him to fight fair.

As another jet of emerald green soared over his head, he leapt to his feet, pointed his wand at where he had seen the Killing Curse came from and shouted, "Crucio!" There was a high pitched screaming as the Unforgivable found its target. He should have used the Avada Kedavra, but he didn't really have the stomach to do that without proper need yet. The Cruciatus was almost as effective anyway.

Two Killing Curses collided with his hiding place, blasting it to pieces. Harry shot more Cruciatus' out into the night as he ran for cover, willing as much pain into the Unforgivables as he could. He was running out of hiding places. This section of the graveyard was mostly low lying tombs with a small plaque engraved into them. There was nothing to hide behind. He glanced around desperately, searching for anything that he could use as cover. And then he saw it.

A single tombstone was standing alone in the middle of the destruction, and the ground where the body was usually buried had been ripped apart. Not thinking about the fact that he was about to defile somebody's grave, Harry sprinted across the open space. He could hear shouts of Avada Kedavra and saw the Killing Curse blow the earth all around him into the air. He focused on the hole, willing himself to move faster, cursing himself for not eating any chocolate after the Dementor incident. He was metres away from it when the earth beneath his feet exploded, and he was thrown bodily into the grave.

As soon as he landed he moved into a crouch pointing his wand into the night sky above, waiting for someone to approach. There was something odd about the tombstone; something familiar. And then the light from a Killing Curse lit up the face of the headstone and Harry's blood ran cold. The two words _Ignotus Perevel_ were lit up for a mere second, but for Harry it seemed like centuries passed him by. For now he knew which grave he was in. He knew that the grave he was in would never be excavated, not unless there was a reason for it.

The feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach, his eyes roved the floor of the deep burial place. He was oblivious to the flashes of green light that flared over his head. His throat constricted when he found what he sought. The skeleton did not frighten him, not in the slightest. But the piece of red silk cloth near the skeleton's skull did. With trembling fingers, he grabbed the piece of material and unfolded it as fast as he could, hoping against hope that what he sought was still there. The last piece of cloth fell open, and Harry choked out a dry sob.

The scarlet silk sheet was empty.

The Elder Wand was gone.

**Sorry for the long wait. I had heaps of stuff to bring home from work and do and I've had no typing time. some things can't be helped.**

**Okay, first thing; the Elder Wand. A number of reviewers have pointed out 'holes' in story regarding the rules and rituals associated with the wand. Trust me, all apparent rifts in the story regarding matters like ownership duels have been taken care of. Secondly; the last chapter regarding harry/ginny. I've rewritten it. It's still not great, but its better. I think.**

**Thanks for the reviews. I'd like a BETA. Or someone who gives me a kick in the pants when I don't update. Whatever. **

**Red **


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